


I Need Somebody

by lilymarlene



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Drama, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Everyone Loves Yang Jeongin | I.N, Fainting, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks, Sickfic, Vomiting, Yang Jeongin | I.N-centric, baby's first published work, h/c heavy plot light
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-16 12:55:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 25,686
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28582353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lilymarlene/pseuds/lilymarlene
Summary: A mystery illness strikes out of nowhere. All Jeongin wants is to deal with it by himself, and not make anyone worry about him.It doesn't go that well.
Relationships: Bang Chan & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Hwang Hyunjin & Yang Jeongin | I.N, Yang Jeongin | I.N & Everyone, Yang Jeongin | I.N/Everyone
Comments: 98
Kudos: 341





	1. i

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. Please be gentle with me; this is my first published work and I have no idea what I'm doing x

It starts as Jeongin is leaving JYP with Seungmin and Jisung. It's been an easy day, as they go - a meeting, some vocal training, choreography blocking. He's spent the last couple of hours helping out with guide vocals for Jisung's latest track and messing about in the music room. It might, Jeongin thinks, be the most relaxed work day he's ever had. He swings his water bottle in his hand, listening to it slosh rhythmically as he walks.

The wave of dizziness takes him completely by surprise. 

They've just left the main doors and are heading for the gate when Jeongin feels suddenly like he's going to be sick, the world lurching underneath him. His legs go weak and he stumbles heavily to one side. Crashing straight into Seungmin is the only thing that keeps him from falling. 

" _I_ _nnie._ " Seungmin's voice is sharp, startled. Jeongin feels himself be grabbed around the waist and hauled a few feet over, directed to sit on a low wall. 

A hand tugs down Jeongin's face mask, and he realises he's closed his eyes. He breathes deeply, holding tight to Seungmin's arm.

"IN-ah?" Jisung says. "Are you ok? What's going on?"

"Sorry, sorry," Jeongin says breathlessly, "just - I just got dizzy for a second. I'm ok. It's going away."

It is; after a few more seconds leaning heavily on Seungmin and breathing deeply, Jeongin blinks his eyes open. Nothing's spinning any more, and the nausea has mostly ebbed away. 

"Sorry," he says again. "I'm fine."

"You almost passed out," Jisung says dubiously. He's crouching in front of them, one hand on Jeongin's knee, the other clutching his phone. "You’ve gone white. You collapsed."

"I didn't collapse."

"You literally did," says Seungmin, pinching his side, but it's more of a hug than anything else.

Jeongin accepts the water bottle Seungmin shoves into his hand and sips it. "I swear I feel fine now."

He really does - a little disconcerted, maybe, sort of anxious with all their attention on him - but fine. Not even nauseous any more. 

Jisung insists on calling a car to take them home, playing the hyung card when Jeongin tries to insist harder that he can walk, and Seungmin wraps an arm around him to walk him into the dorm, holding on tighter when Jeongin tries to shrug him away.

They frogmarch him into the living room and Seungmin pushes him down on the couch next to Chan. Their leader gives him a look, setting his laptop aside.

"Innie? What's wrong?"

Jeongin must look sulkier than he thought. He opens his mouth to respond, but Jisung beats him to it. 

"He passed out on the way home."

"I did _not_ ," Jeongin says, over Chan's startled noise and Hyunjin's horrified _What?_ from somewhere in the kitchen. Everyone in the room is looking at him now and he shrinks even further into the couch, ducking his head. "I got dizzy for five seconds; they're overreacting."

"You would have collapsed to the ground if Seungmin hadn't caught you," Jisung argues.

Chan squeezes Jeongin's shoulder and then puts a hand up to feel his forehead. "Are you feeling ok, aegi? You're a bit pale."

"I'm _fine_ , hyung," Jeongin says. He can hear the whine in his voice. He has a love-hate relationship with being called _aegi_ ; he can't deny that when he _is_ feeling sick or hurt or sad, it makes him feel better, but right now it just makes him feel like they think he's a child.

"I promise," he says firmly. "I just got dizzy and lost my balance. It went away basically straight away."

"Ok," Chan says. He lets go of Jeongin's shoulder to pet through his hair, instead. "Come tell me if it happens again, yeah?"

Jeongin nods shortly, and escapes to his room so everybody will stop _staring._

When it happens again, he doesn't tell Chan. He means to - or he thinks he does, but even thinking about saying _Um, I felt dizzy again_ makes him squirm, and they have dance practice, and it goes away almost as quickly as the first time.

It's been three days, and Jeongin's tired. They've been shooting a video and now they're straight back into work, so it's less weird to him that he might be feeling off, but it's no less scary. They're having a break from dancing and he's escaped to the bathroom - _by himself_ , no matter what Changbin calls after him into the hallway.

Jeongin's just washing his hands when it happens again. The rush of nausea has him hunching over, sure he'll throw up, but instead the floor disappears from underneath him and he feels his hands slide along the sink. This time, he'll concede, it probably does count as actual passing out, because there's at least a couple of seconds of total blackness, and when he opens his eyes he's lying on the floor, the side of his head aching a little where he must have smacked it.

He grips the sink and gingerly pulls himself up. Just like last time, the nausea's going away as he breathes deeply, and it's only a few seconds before he can stand on wobbly legs. 

Their manager is in the dance studio when he gets back, derailing his half-formed plan to go tell Chan. Jeongin feels physically fine but a little shaky and anxious, so instead of going to Chan, he sits down near Hyunjin, and waits. A second later - possibly not even that - the older boy has hauled him into his lap. Jeongin sinks gratefully into the cuddle, shuffles to get comfortable and then lays his head down on Hyunjin's shoulder. 

"Hi, Innie-ah. Are you ok?"

Hyunjin speaks quietly - for all he's the most dramatic person Jeongin's ever met, he's sensitive, and he can be discreet when he needs to. Jeongin worms a little closer and nods into his neck. 

"Mm. Headache," he says, and it's not a lie, his head does hurt. It's an omission, though, a pretty big one, and he feels guilty about it as Hyunjin hums sympathetically and cuddles him in.

It keeps happening. No one has caught him yet, but two weeks later and it's almost once a day, so it's only a matter of time. Jeongin starts to feel sick at other times, too, the nausea lasting even once the dizziness has passed, and an ever-present, low-level fatigue that he can't shake. He's anxious all the time, too, worried that it'll happen with people around, or worse, _cameras,_ or that next time he'll fall from a height or hit a wall or something and really hurt himself. 

By the third time he's woken up on the floor, he starts to worry that there's something really, truly wrong with him, and he's almost ramped himself up into a panic attack when someone calls his name from elsewhere in the dorm. Jeongin takes a deep breath and forces the anxiety away. Later. He can be upset later. 

The others have clearly noticed something is wrong. Jeongin knows he's being quiet, and the members aren't stupid. Everyone's being very gentle with him. Jeongin's both grateful and exasperated. 

Nearly three weeks to the day since the first dizzy spell, he slumps against the window in the car on the way home. He wants to sleep for a week.

Someone tugs on his sleeve - Minho, sliding into the seat next to him. He doesn't say anything, but tucks his arm around Jeongin and rearranges them until Jeongin's leaning against his chest. Jeongin shuts his eyes, and falls asleep to Minho's fingers sifting gently through his hair. 

He half wakes up to find himself being guided out of the car and manoeuvred onto Minho's back, someone else's hands at his waist to help, a third person taking his bag from him. Jeongin wants to protest, but he's _so_ tired and he feels so sick and he's pretty sure he narrowly avoided cracking his head open when he collapsed near a table today, so he pushes his face into Minho's neck and goes back to sleep. He wakes again when he's gently deposited on his bed. Someone takes off his shoes. The blankets are tucked in around him, and lips press lightly against his forehead.

"I'm so worried about him," a voice whispers, but Jeongin's not awake enough to work out whose.

  
  


Jeongin's practically already moving by the time he wakes up, finding himself just conscious enough to scuttle into the bathroom and drop to his knees to throw up. He has no idea what time it is - the dorm is quiet, when he can pause between retches to listen, and everything's dark, so he assumes it's late enough for everyone to have gone to bed.

He heaves again, trying to be quiet and not cry, but barely manages either. Black spots fleck his vision as he's sick a fourth time, basically just water and bile as it's been a while since he ate anything. His throat burns. His head is throbbing. He drops it onto his elbow, curled up into a little ball between the toilet and the bathroom counter.

There's a soft knock on the bathroom door. "Innie? Is that you?"

Jeongin breathes deeply until he's sure he's not going to throw up again right this second, and then leans over to flush the toilet and grab some tissue to wipe his mouth. "Yeah."

"Are you ok? Can you let me in?"

It's Jisung, presumably having woken up when Jeongin staggered out of the bedroom at a run. Jeongin reaches over to open the door - he doesn't even remember locking it - and slumps back.

"Hey," Jisung says gently, dropping down by his side. "Are you ok? Are you sick?"

Jeongin nods, because there's no point lying now that he's actually been caught throwing up. He feels awful, and there are tears on his face, and his stomach is still rolling. Jisung strokes some of the sweaty hair back from his forehead - his fingers are cool, and it feels amazing.

"I'm sorry," Jisung says. "Let me get you some water, ok? I'll be back."

Jeongin nods again. He tries to stay still while Jisung is gone, but his stomach lurches and he has to hunch forward to throw up again. 

"Ai, Innie." Jisung hurries back in and Jeongin feels hands on him, rubbing soothingly at his back and his waist. 

"It's ok, you're ok," Jisung mutters. 

Jeongin's not so sure. He leans back against the counter, shivering and sipping carefully at a bottle of water while Jisung flushes the toilet and fusses at his hair. He fetches his toothbrush and toothpaste, too, although Jeongin draws the line at letting him brush for him.

"Well gosh," Jisung says. "Hyung knows when he's not wanted. The ingratitude in young people these days!"

He keeps rambling while Jeongin brushes his teeth and drinks more water. His voice is animated but his hands gentle and caring, and Jeongin leans into the touches to show his appreciation. 

"Are you done, do you think? Do you want to come back to bed?"

Jeongin nods, allowing Jisung to scoop him up off the floor. His head throbs again, and he hears himself make a faintly embarrassing whimpering noise. Jisung wraps a supportive arm around his waist and leads him out into the hall, but they've only made it halfway when Jeongin feels a familiar lurching sensation and clutches at the older boy's shirt. 

"Hyung, 'm'gonna pass out," he slurs. Jisung swears, tightening his grip, and guides them carefully down to the floor. He makes Jeongin lie down on his side, one arm curled up to support his head.

"You're ok," he says again. "Just keep breathing, Innie. I'm just gonna get someone else to help me take care of you. You can't pass out while you're lying down, ok? You'll be alright."

Jeongin closes his eyes and tries to obey, but he's scared. He _hates_ passing out, and he's alone now, and everything's strange and he's cold, and he's pretty sure he's crying now, as if this wasn't embarrassing enough.

"Hey, Innie, hey, it's ok." Chan. Chan's hands are on him, rubbing soothingly at his hip, sifting back his hair to feel his forehead. "You ok? Can you look at me?"

Jeongin drags his eyes open. Chan is crouching in front of him, Jisung just behind. Someone's turned the hall light on, and it makes Jeongin squint.

"Hi, aegi," Chan murmurs. "We're going to get you sitting up, ok? And then we can get you back to bed."

Jeongin closes his eyes again and lets them manhandle him upright. Jisung makes him put his head between his knees for a while, which sort of helps, but his legs still buckle the second they get him standing. 

" _Ok, ok_ ," Chan says in English, and then, "it's ok, Innie, I'm going to carry you, alright?"

Jeongin clings weakly around Chan's neck as he's lifted, and then lets himself sag against his chest. For the second time that day (night? he doesn't know), Jeongin's carried to his bed, only this time he's awake to see Chan sit down on the edge and brush a hand over his hair. 

"Hannie is bringing you the bucket in case you're sick again," Chan says gently. "I'll get you the day off tomorrow, ok? More if I can. You just rest."

He keeps talking, but Jeongin can't follow any more. He closes his eyes against the pain in his head, and everything fades away.

  
  
  


It's light when he wakes - bright, mid-morning light, and the dorm is very quiet. Jisung's bed is empty and Jeongin wonders briefly, anxiously, if they've left him alone, until movement on the floor catches his eye. 

Hyunjin is sprawled out on top of some of the couch cushions, his face buried in a pillow and one of his arms stretched up towards the bed. Jeongin shifts, reaches for the hand, and tangles their fingers together. 

Hyunjin hums, squeezing Jeongin’s hand. His eyes blink open and he rolls onto his back, squinting as he smiles. 

"Hi, Jeonginnie." He pushes up onto his elbows and then hauls himself up to sit on the edge of Jeongin's bed, brushing his hair back to feel his forehead like Chan did the night before. "How are you feeling?"

Jeongin shrugs one shoulder, embarrassed. If Hyunjin is here it means someone asked him to stay, which means everyone knows what happened last night, and everyone's been talking about him being sick. 

"Don't hide," Hyunjin chides softly. "It's just me. Everyone else is at work. You got me a day off, so thanks."

Jeongin sits up carefully. He feels nauseous, dizzy, but not like he's actively going to throw up or pass out, so he supposes it's an improvement. 

"Seriously," Hyunjin says, frowning a little. "Tell me how you're feeling."

"Sick."

Hyunjin frowns more and tucks his arm around Jeongin's waist, pulling him into a hug. "Ok. Do you want to sleep more, or come sit in the living room?"

"I, um." Jeongin hedges. He doesn't want to sleep any more, but also, "I'm not sure I can stand up by myself."

"That's ok; hyung will help you," Hyunjin says easily. "Tell me if you're too dizzy, ok? I'm no Chan-hyung but I can carry you if you need me to."

Jeongin leans heavily on the older boy's arm as they shuffle out to the living room. Hyunjin settles him carefully onto the couch and then sits down again, reaching out to stroke his cheek. "Are you ok, Innie?"

His tone is so, so gentle, his eyes kind, and maybe it's because Jeongin's sick and his defences are down, but it's as though the last few weeks all land on him at once. Feeling nauseous and tired all the time, running out of rooms when he gets dizzy, waking up alone after collapsing for no reason, terrified to tell anyone, terrified to be caught - Jeongin's breath catches once, twice, and he bursts into tears.

"Oh, hey." Hyunjin sounds startled, sliding closer immediately and gathering Jeongin into his arms. He's warm with sleep and he smells familiar and Jeongin sobs, clinging. 

"Sh, it's ok, it's ok," Hyunjin murmurs. "Hyung has you. You're ok."

One of his hands comes up to stroke at Jeongin's nape. "What is it, aegi? What's wrong?"

"I just - I feel so sick - all the time," Jeongin gets out, his face pressed into his hyung's shoulder. 

"All the time?" Hyunjin asks gently. "Not just last night?"

"No, for - for weeks," Jeongin sobs. "I've been - I -"

He cuts himself off, unable to talk past the crying, and Hyunjin hums worriedly. 

"Sh, sh, calm down. It's ok. Cry if you need to, and then you can tell hyung what's been going on and I'll fix it for you."

He tugs Jeongin even closer, wrapping him up in his arms, and Jeongin curls his legs up until he's almost in the older boy's lap, sobbing. Somewhere under the uncontrollable mass of emotion he's so embarrassed, furious with himself for losing the control he's been so careful to maintain so far. But Hyunjin's voice is soft and his embrace is loving and all Jeongin can do is bury his face in his neck and try to breathe. 

He feels even worse by the time he can stop crying. A headache is pulsing in his temples and his stomach rolls, and he lies limply against Hyunjin's shoulder, breathing shallowly. 

"I, um," he sniffles. "I think I'm going to be sick."

"Ok, don't worry." 

Hyunjin eases him back against the couch and disappears, coming back quickly with the bucket, which he drops to the floor between Jeongin's knees. His arm comes back around Jeongin's shoulders, rubbing soothingly, and Jeongin leans towards it even as he has to hunch over, retching.

Hyunjin holds him up as he's sick again. Jeongin burns with humiliation, tears still sliding down his cheeks, but Hyunjin doesn't say anything. 

When it's over Jeongin accepts mouthwash and water, lets Hyunjin dab at his face with the cloth, and tries to pretend he's not still crying. He fails miserably. Hyunjin pets his hair and strokes his face, wiping at some of the tears. 

"Sit here a second. I'll be right back and we can talk, ok? Don't worry."

Jeongin drops his face to his hands. He shouldn't have said anything. He's already derailing practice by not being there and forcing Hyunjin to stay as well. It's not like he's going to catch up with the new choreography as quickly, either. He's nineteen now. He should be able to take care of himself. 

Hyunjin takes the bucket away and brings it back a few minutes later. His hand comes to the back of Jeongin's neck, squeezing lightly. 

"Jeonginnie," he says warmly. "Tell me what's wrong."

Jeongin lets himself be pulled into a cuddle, dropping his head tiredly to Hyunjin's neck and curling in close. He tries to speak, but it comes out a pathetic little sob, instead. Hyunjin makes a sad noise in response, pets at his hair.

"You said you've not been feeling well for a while."

Jeongin takes a deep breath. "Um. Do you remember when Jisung-hyung said I passed out?"

Hyunjin hums in acknowledgement.

"I didn't that time. I really didn't. But after... at first I just kept getting dizzy, but then - I did pass out. And then it kept happening."

"All this time? Innie," Hyunjin chides gently. "You didn't say anything? We knew something was off, but... Hyung's sorry we didn't notice."

"It was - there's so - we have so much to do." Jeongin swallows against the ache of more tears in his throat. "I didn't want to be annoying."

"You're never annoying. We love you. How often has this been happening?"

"Every day," Jeongin mumbles, ashamed. "Sometimes more than once. I just - I can sort of feel it coming, so I'd leave the room, and then it would go away quickly at first, but then - now I just feel sick and exhausted all the time, and I can't even stand up, and I - I don't know what to do, I'm sorry, I don't want to be annoying, I'm so sorry."

He's fully crying again now, and Hyunjin croons at him, his big hand coming to rest on the side of Jeongin's face.

"Sh, sh," he says. "You don't have anything to be sorry for, ok? You haven't done anything wrong. Everything's going to be ok."

Hyunjin rocks them gently and Jeongin clings and cries until he runs out of energy and goes limp against his hyung's chest, exhausted. Hyunjin makes him drink more water, and tries to persuade him to eat something, but Jeongin resists. 

"Ok," Hyunjin says, his tone careful. "But - I don't know if you've noticed, aegi. You've lost quite a lot of weight, yeah? It makes more sense now that I know you've not been feeling well, but... we've been worried. Please try and eat something later, ok?"

Jeongin nods, promises. Guilt settles heavy in his stomach, making him feel even sicker. 

  
  


"He was so upset, hyung. He cried until he was sick."

The words come from somewhere nearby, registering dimly in Jeongin's half-awake mind. He's sleepy and warm - there's a pillow under his head now, and one of the fuzzy blankets tucked tightly over him - and doesn't bother to open his eyes, just listens idly as the voice speaks again.

"No, he needs to see a doctor. He says he's been feeling sick for weeks, and he keeps passing out... no, no, I know. He didn't want us to worry or interrupt work... Yeah, I almost cried."

Hyunjin, Jeongin thinks, on the phone. He lowers his voice a little as he comes closer, and Jeongin feels the couch dip as he sits down. A hand strokes through his hair.

"He's sleeping now," Hyunjin says softly. "Yeah... maybe just you?... No, it's just he's so anxious about causing trouble, and you know how he gets when... Yeah. Yeah."

The hand keeps stroking his hair, Hyunjin's voice a quiet murmur, and Jeongin's lulled back to sleep.

The next time he wakes, it's to a by-now-familiar wave of nausea. He hears himself groan a little, rolling forward to sit up and fumbling for the bucket. 

"It's ok," Hyunjin says, helping him extricate himself from the blanket. "Deep breaths; it's alright."

Jeongin's head throbs as he retches, his body convulsing even though there's nothing to bring up. Hyunjin keeps a hand on his back and whispers to him until he's done. Jeongin accepts the mouthwash afterwards, but pushes the water away - the thought of swallowing anything makes him want to cry.

"Please, Innie," Hyunjin says gently. "You're already dehydrated. You'll only get sicker if you don't drink anything."

"I'll just throw it back up."

"Just try a little bit. Please."

Hyunjin's beautiful face is creased in concern, his eyes dark and sincere. He stares until Jeongin takes the water with a shaky hand, and then beams at him, kisses his temple. Jeongin sips gingerly at the bottle, leaning into the embrace. He feels awful. Weak, sick, nervous. He knows there must be consequences of telling Hyunjin what's been going on, but he can't work out what they'll be. 

He tugs on Hyunjin's sleeve, slowly lifting the older boy's arm to curl up under it. Hyunjin makes a pleased noise.

"You're cute," he says quietly. "I'm sorry you're sick, aegi. I'll take care of you, ok?"

The thing is, Jeongin knows that. He trusts Hyunjin with his life - he trusts all the members with his life. But just because he knows they'll take care of him doesn't mean he has any right to ask. Doesn't mean he shouldn't be able to cope by himself. Stupid, frustrated tears prick at his eyes again and he breathes deeply to keep them at bay, pressing his face into the meat of Hyunjin's shoulder. 

There's a noise at the door, and Jeongin flinches hard, surprising even himself. Hyunjin hugs him closer.

"It's ok; it's just hyung."

He means Chan, it turns out. Their leader shuffles into the room smiling, but with a little line of worry in his forehead. Jeongin realises he has no idea what time it is, if this is early for anyone to be back or not. It's light outside, though, so it definitely _is_ early for Chan to be back.

"Hi, kids." Chan sits down on Jeongin's other side, puts a hand on his back. Chan runs hot and Jeongin cold, so his touch always feels startlingly, blissfully warm. Jeongin looks up at him over Hyunjin's arm.

"Hi, hyung."

"How are you doing, IN-ah?"

"I'm ok." Jeongin hunches uncomfortably at Chan's kind, scrutinising gaze. 

"He's still throwing up," Hyunjin says, taking over. "I've been trying to get him to keep drinking but it's rough on him, isn't it, Innie? So I'm kind of worried he's dehydrated. Headache, too, yeah? And he's all dizzy."

"Ai, our poor baby," Chan says, somehow making it sympathetic rather than patronising. His hand strokes down Jeongin's back, and Hyunjin kisses his hair, and Jeongin sort of wants to stay curled up between them being petted forever. Then, Hyunjin ruins it.

"Jeonginnie," he says gently, "I asked hyung to come home early so we could talk, yeah? About what you told me earlier."

Jeongin hunches even more, willing himself not to start crying again. He's usually stronger than this, but it's like a dam has broken, and he's struggling to control himself.

"Nobody's mad at you," Chan says at once. "You haven't done anything wrong, ok? I just want to know what's going on so I can help."

Jeongin fumbles through another explanation, blushing furiously under Chan's soft expression. The older boy keeps rubbing his back soothingly. 

"Ok," he says, once Jeongin has faltered into silence. "I'm going to get you a doctor's appointment. Hopefully they can have someone come here, but we might have to take you in."

Jeongin opens his mouth to protest, but Chan talks over him. "Don't worry about missing anything. This is your health and it's more important, ok? Everything can be caught up or postponed. You stay here with Hyunjinnie and I'll make some calls."

He leans in and kisses Jeongin's forehead before getting up. Jeongin curls up a little tighter under Hyunjin's arm. He can't shake the feeling that he's delaying everyone. 

"Don't worry," Hyunjin says. "Hyung will sort it out, and I'm here with you. Get some more sleep."

He grabs one of the pillows and sets it in his lap. Jeongin's so, so tired. He lets himself sink down, Chan's voice a soft murmur in the background, Hyunjin's arms around him gentle and familiar, and shuts his eyes. 


	2. ii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Somehow, things take a turn for the much, much worse.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's Chapter 2! Thanks so much for all the nice comments and kudos. It's so lovely; I'm all giddy.
> 
> Some medical stuff in this chapter, which I have taken enormous, enormous liberties with. It's all BASED in fact, but almost certainly not actually fact.

The whole following day, Jeongin feels the best he's felt in ages. Tired, still, but he doesn't get dizzy at all, and so by evening he's begging Chan to let him practice again. His hyung eventually concedes, even though they haven't managed to get him a doctor's appointment yet, and so two days after breaking down in Hyunjin's lap, Jeongin finds himself practically bouncing into the practice room.

"Look who's got his energy back," Felix says, beaming like a proud mother, and Jeongin is so happy that he flings his arms around him in a slightly aggressive hug. 

Jeongin keeps feeling fine - good even - right up until their first break after lunch. He chugged half his bottle of water before the last run-through, but because everyone has been nagging him about staying hydrated, he goes to grab some more. Right as he bends, though, his stomach lurches, and Jeongin holds his breath.

"IN-ah? You ok?" 

It's Changbin, grabbing his elbow, and Jeongin sways towards him, trying not to throw up. "Dizzy."

"Alright, alright - sit down a minute."

Changbin grabs his other arm and lowers him to sit against the mirror. Jeongin drops his head to his knees, willing himself not to cry. He really, really thought it was over. 

People are talking over him. Changbin's hand is still solid on his arm, and someone else's fingers come to rub at the back of his neck. 

"Innie, are you with us?" 

Jeongin raises his head slowly to look at Chan, letting the nausea ebb gradually away. "Mm. Yeah. Just dizzy."

"Alright. I think you should sit out the rest, yeah? You've done almost a full day."

"No, hyung, please," says Jeongin at once. "I'm ok, I swear. I just need a minute."

"Innie, two days ago you couldn't stand up." Hyunjin's the one stroking his neck, and he wriggles closer to put his arm around Jeongin's waist. "Where's your water? Just rest for a bit. For me. Maybe you'll feel better by the end and hyung will let you join in."

He squishes his face up to Jeongin's and kisses him messily on the temple. Jeongin sighs, accepts his water bottle from Changbin, and leans back against the window. Chan squeezes his knees, and the others go back to practice. 

Jeongin shivers, a light draft reaching him from under the door. When he glances up, just for a split second, it looks like there's a shadow underneath, and he hopes someone is going to come in and interrupt practice so he won't miss as much. But the shadow moves on, and Jeongin drinks his water and tries not to sulk. 

  
  


He doesn't feel better by the end. As soon as Changbin and Seungmin pull him carefully upright, Jeongin's vision goes dark and he drops back to his knees, swallowing hard to avoid throwing up. 

"It's ok, it's ok," Seungmin chants quietly in his ear. "Come sit down. We can go home in a minute."

Jeongin slumps into Seungmin's side on the couch and stays there as everyone else gathers their stuff. Hyunjin joins them too - he's been clingy all day, and Jeongin doesn't mind, because he's feeling clingy right back. 

Seungmin is scratching gently through the hair at the nape of his neck. It feels nice, and Jeongin concentrates on it to distract himself from the nausea. He closes his eyes.

"Is he sleeping?"

Jeongin registers Jisung's voice a little while later, but can't bring himself to move or open his eyes. He's back to feeling awful, and if he thinks about it too hard, he's going to cry, so he stays cuddled up against Seungmin with Hyunjin's warmth at his back, and lets his members talk.

"Yeah," Seungmin says, whispering. "He was shaking, before."

"Alright. Binnie-hyung's going to see if the car is here and then Chan-hyung says he'll carry him down."

"Poor baby," Felix murmurs. "He's so sick."

"I hate seeing him like this,” says Jisung. 

Seungmin doesn’t say anything more, but leans his chin on top of Jeongin's head. Jeongin closes a hand around his sleeve. Everything's swaying beneath him like they're on a ship. If it wasn't for the lurch of his stomach, Jeongin thinks, it would almost be soothing. 

He lets the conversation slip away from him for a while, until he feels someone's hand on his face.

"Innie? Hyung's going to carry you to the car, ok?"

It's Chan. Jeongin pushes at the hand, tightening his grip on Seungmin's arm. 

"No... please."

It's one thing being carried at home. Jeongin doesn't even know if he _likes_ it; it makes him feel small and vulnerable, and that makes something in his chest come loose, something he doesn't think he wants to face. But this is his workplace - he can't bear the idea of someone from management seeing him being carried out like a baby. Or worse, someone from another idol group. He could never look anyone from Twice or GOT7 in the face again.

"Please let me walk," he gasps out, dragging his eyes open. "Please."

"Innie," Chan says carefully. "You're sick, yeah? We're really worried you'll pass out again."

Jeongin claws at Seungmin and Hyunjin's knees for leverage and sits up, making himself focus even as everything blurs. 

" _Please_ ," he says again. He isn't going to cry here either. He is not. "Everyone - everyone will see if you carry me."

Chan's face softens, understanding. "Ok. Ok. But if you can't, don't worry, alright? You can go on my back; no one will think anything."

"We'll put your hood up," Hyunjin says, stroking his back. 

Jeongin makes it to the car through stubbornness alone. Chan and Minho walk either side of him, solid as pillars, and he sags in their arms, forcing his legs to stay under him. 

"Almost there," Minho murmurs. "You're doing great. You can lie down in just a second."

The van appears in front of him like a mirage. Jeongin gives up, lets them lift him inside, and sinks into Seungmin and Felix's waiting laps. 

  
  


They carry him up to the dorm, too, and Jeongin doesn't protest. He isn't sure if he's been asleep or unconscious. In the elevator he puts his arms around Chan's neck, peers up over his shoulder at the others. Everyone looks upset - Minho has his arm around Hyunjin, who looks like he's about to cry - and Jeongin goes tense with guilt.

"It's alright," Chan says softly, misinterpreting. "We're almost there. A doctor is coming to see you soon, alright? At the dorm."

Jeongin makes a small, protesting noise. 

"People who pass out don't get a choice," Changbin says, and Jeongin hears somebody smack him. 

"Don't hit your dongsaeng," Changbin whines. Minho, then. 

"He's right, though, IN-ah," Chan says. "We're worried you're too dehydrated. At least they can probably prescribe you something for the nausea. You'll feel better."

  
  


Jeongin has no idea how much time passes before the doctor arrives. It feels like Chan barely sets him down before the doorbell is going, and Jeongin doesn't really zone into the conversation until the doctor - a sweet-faced woman - pricks his finger and he flinches.

"Sorry, Jeongin-ssi," she says brightly. "That's a good reflex, though. Can you open your mouth for me?"

She looks at his tongue and his eyes and listens to Chan and Hyunjin explain his symptoms - everyone else has been banished to their bedrooms for hovering. 

The little device she pricked his finger with beeps and the doctor glances at the screen. 

"Ok, I'm going to recommend we get you admitted to hospital, alright? There's no need to panic," she adds. Jeongin isn't sure if that part is directed at him or or the others - Hyunjin's hand flexes around his, and he can see the tight set of Chan's jaw in the corner of his eye.

"You're bordering on dangerously dehydrated, and your blood sugar is pretty low," she explains. "So they'll just give you some fluids to help you get levelled out. They can also give you something for the nausea, and do some further tests to hopefully figure out what's causing these symptoms and get you treated, because it could be a number of things."

That part sounds nice, Jeongin supposes. But before that is getting up again, and travelling to the hospital, and strangers talking to him, and maybe even _photographs_ of him in a hospital, and - he bites his lip.

"I - I have to go?"

The doctor smiles kindly at him. "I'm afraid so, but there's nothing to worry about. I'm sure one of your friends will go with you, hm?"

Chan comes with him (Hyunjin only agrees to stay behind when Minho and Changbin sit on him). Iseul, one of their managers, comes to drive them, clicking his tongue concernedly when Jeongin slumps into Chan’s side in the car. 

The hospital doctor asks all the same questions as the first one, albeit a touch more brusquely, and they take his blood - at least this time when Jeongin nearly passes out, it's just because he _hates_ injections - and he's about ready to cry when they get him into a hospital gown, set him up with an IV and finally, finally he and Chan are left alone in a room. 

"Innie, I'm proud of you." Chan comes to sit on the end of the bed. "I know all this is a lot to handle when you don't feel well. You're being so strong."

Jeongin doesn't feel strong. He blinks the tears away hard, reaching for Chan's hand. He can feel his eyes closing already. 

"You can go to sleep, honey, it's ok," Chan murmurs. "They'll come and see you when the blood results are ready, or when the IV is finished, whichever is first. I'll be here."

  
  
  


"No. No, I'm absolutely sure. I'd stake my life on it. No."

Chan's angry, Jeongin thinks dazedly. He blinks himself awake, listening to Chan's loud, serious voice float in from the hallway - the hospital hallway, he remembers. He's in the hospital, because he's sick. 

The IV bag attached to his wrist is almost empty, and Jeongin notes gratefully that he doesn't feel so bad any more - exhausted and weak, sure, but not like he's about to throw up, and not like he has to grit his teeth to cling to consciousness. He takes a deep breath, just now realising how scared he was that they wouldn't know how to fix him.

Chan's still speaking. "Of course I understand that, sir, but I _know_ him -"

Their manager's voice interrupts, quieter than Chan's, so Jeongin can't make out the words. He sounds serious too, but placatory. Jeongin struggles to sit up, pausing at a thankfully short-lived wave of dizziness, but doesn't make it all the way there before the door opens again.

"Innie," Chan says, crossing the room in half a second. "Hey, are you ok? Don't get up. How are you feeling?"

Jeongin gives up and lies back down when Chan nudges him. "Better," he says, "not as sick. Just really tired."

"Good evening, Jeongin-ssi," the doctor says, coming back in with their manager at his heels. "I see the IV is almost done - that's great. I've got your blood results here as well. Let me just do a couple more tests and we can go through them."

Chan gets a mulish look on his face that Jeongin recognises from times when people - management, journalists, coaches - have tried to bully them. He moves to the far side of Jeongin's bed to give the doctor space, but doesn't back off. 

The doctor adjusts the bed so that Jeongin is sitting up. He conducts some of the same tests Jeongin remembers from before - looking at his eyes, his heart, his blood pressure - and seems satisfied. 

"Looks like the IV is doing its job," he says. "That's great. Let's talk about your blood.”

Creepy, Jeongin thinks.

The doctor opens the folder he brought in with him and points at one of the little rows of numbers with a pen. "This one here is your blood sugar, which was very low, although the IV should have helped with that a little. Based on what we've heard, I think we can put that problem down to excessive vomiting and not eating or drinking enough in the days before you were brought in."

The pen moves to another row. "These numbers here are the ones we found more concerning, Jeongin-ssi."

"Concerning?" Jeongin hears the wobble in his own voice, and reaches slowly for Chan's sleeve. "Is - am I sick?"

The doctor frowns. "Not exactly. These columns here indicate elevated levels of benzodiazepines in your blood. When you were admitted, you reported on your intake form that you do not currently take any kind of prescription drug. Is that correct?"

"Yes."

"Are you taking anything that was not prescribed? That you might have got hold of in some other way?"

"I - what? Taking..." 

Chan's thumb soothes over the back of his hand, and Jeongin realises he's shaking.

"Other drugs, Jeongin-ssi. I know this might be difficult to discuss with your friend and your manager present, but we need to know as it affects how we can help you."

"I - no, no," Jeongin says. His voice cracks. "I've never - just, just painkillers. Normal ones. Ibuprofen, or - or whatever we have at home."

"Your manager mentioned that another boy you live with takes anxiety medication. Have you ever used any of that?"

"I - Jisung-hyung's pills?" Jeongin looks up at Iseul, who nods. "No - I haven't - I wouldn't take his -"

"There's no need to be defensive," the doctor says, sternly. "We see a lot of young people in here who don't tell us the truth, Jeongin-ssi, and it doesn't go well for them or for their families. If we can't treat you -"

"I am telling the truth." A couple of frustrated tears spill over and Jeongin sniffs. "I am, I promise - I would never. Hyung," he says, grabbing Chan's arm in both hands. "Please, I wouldn't take hyung's pills, I didn't -"

"Sh, Innie, I know." Chan cups the back of Jeongin's head, holding it to his chest. "I know you wouldn't. I told them. I believe you."

Jeongin breathes in, trying frantically to calm down. No wonder they don't believe him, he thinks; he's a mess.

“We know you have access to Jisung’s medication,” Iseul says in a tired voice. He won’t look Jeongin in the eye. 

The doctor raises his eyebrows. "I appreciate that this is difficult," he says, "but the levels of benzodiazepines in these results clearly indicate exposure to several types of tranquiliser."

Iseul cuts in. "Is he in further physical danger? Will he need to stay here overnight?"

"No - provided he ingests no more of the drug or drugs, it should pass out of his system with no problems, and the fluids should counteract some of the symptoms. The rest of the effects of this dose will fade naturally."

"What do you mean 'this dose'?" Chan says sharply. 

"Based on reportage of symptoms and a couple of lingering ingredients in the blood, I would suggest dosing has taken place over a period of at least a month."

"But I haven't taken anything," Jeongin says. He's starting to feel sick again, and he can hear his voice getting smaller with each word. "I don't know how it - I don't know why it's there."

"Jeongin." Iseul isn't quite snapping, but he's close. Jeongin flinches into Chan's side. He isn't sure he's ever heard their manager use his formal name like that - it's always been _Jeongin-ah_ , _Jeonginnie_ before. 

"We can discuss how this drug got into your system later," Iseul continues. "Chan - call me when the IV is finished and I'll drive you home."

He sweeps out of the room. Jeongin clutches at Chan's arm. He can't breathe. They think he's doing _drugs_ , and it's there in his blood, in his file, that incomprehensible row of numbers suggesting he's someone completely different, has made completely different choices. He's never had anything stronger than the sips of soju his hyungs sometimes let him sneak. Half a beer, once. He didn't even _like_ it.

"Doctor," says Chan, and Jeongin jumps. His leader strokes a hand down his back. "I know how this must look to you, but I promise - we're in an idol group; we know the consequences of drug use... Is there any other way it could get into his blood?"

The doctor sighs irritably, standing up. "He's ingested several variants of benzodiazepine over the last month," he says. "That's clear from his bloodwork, and it's all I can tell you at this stage. Someone will be back to check on you in about an hour, when the IV is finished. If anything changes in how you are feeling, the call button on the left will alert someone to help you."

He's gone before either of them can say anything else. Jeongin shivers in the draft as the door swings closed. He feels frozen. He can't get the look on his manager's face out of his head. 

He's going to lose his job - his _life_. They're going to kick him out of Stray Kids, because there's drugs in his blood, and Jeongin can't prove he's never taken them. _You can't prove a negative_ , his dad likes to say. Oh, god, they're going to tell his parents. He'll be disowned, and he'll have to leave, and there'll be nowhere for him to go.

Jeongin doesn't realise he's hyperventilating until Chan shakes him firmly by the shoulders. 

"Breathe," he orders, and Jeongin obeys automatically.

Chan sits down on the edge of the bed and looks Jeongin straight in the eyes. Jeongin stares back. His vision's gone blurry. 

"I believe you," Chan says again. "I don't know what's going on but we'll fix it, Innie, ok? I'm not going to let anything happen to you."

Jeongin blinks, and two tears spill over, cool against his hot cheeks. 

  
  


It's almost another hour before they can leave. Jeongin stays curled up in the bed and puts all his energy into not crying, while Chan strokes his hair, texting furiously with his other hand. 

Their manager doesn't say a word the whole drive back. It's nearly midnight and Jeongin feels the exhaustion deep in his bones. He's never been tired like this before. Not after practising until 5am every night, not performing day in and day out on tour, not even last year when his insomnia got so bad he started hallucinating. This is his limit, his body says. He can't do any more. His hands shake in his lap.

They pull up outside the dorm and Iseul glances at them in the rearview mirror. "9am tomorrow," he says. "My office. The two of you, and Jisung."

"Hyung," Chan says at once, "Jeonginnie needs rest; he's just been in the hospital -"

"Jeongin needs to understand the consequences of the situation," Iseul says. "If he is physically incapable of attending, call in the morning. Otherwise, I'll see you there. Goodnight."

Jeongin's throat aches with holding back tears. He bows, and wobbles his way out of the car, smiling politely as best as he can. Chan looks at him and for a second Jeongin thinks he's about to see his leader crying. It wouldn't be the first time, not by a long shot, but Jeongin can't bear that this time is his fault. 

"You don't have to do that, Innie," Chan says gently instead. 

Jeongin pretends he doesn't know what he's talking about, and stares hard at the ground as Chan helps him inside. He's so tired he can barely see. The lights in the hallway pierce his vision like needles.

The vast, reaching implications of the evening are threatening to crush him flat. Jeongin can't think, can't slow down his thoughts enough to catch one, can't look straight at any of it because it will turn him to stone like Medusa. He's just going to go inside, let Chan explain, hope they believe him, and go to bed. 

This plan falls apart almost immediately. 

Everyone’s gathered anxiously in the living room when they get in, pretending not to be waiting up. Jeongin smiles for them, too, even as his cheeks twitch with the effort. 

“Jeonginnie, you’re back,” Changbin says sweetly. “Our little baby bird back in the nest.”

“Yeah,” Jeongin manages. He intends to aim for the couch and try not to listen while Chan explains, but the second he turns, he locks eyes with Jisung, and something in his chest cracks open. 

“Hyung.” His voice splinters horribly. Jisung’s eyes go round and startled at once, and he reaches out, starts to say something, but Jeongin’s already stumbling forward to clamp his arms around his neck.

He can’t breathe. 

“Hyung,” he gasps again, “I didn’t take it. I didn’t. Please. I promise.”

“What? Innie.”

Jeongin’s knees give out and he crumples to the floor, Jisung’s arms going tight around his waist to slow his fall. 

“Please believe me.” He doesn’t want to cry now. If he starts crying he isn’t going to be able to stop for hours and hours and he’s so _tired_. He just needs Jisung to understand.

“Innie, it’s ok.” Jisung rubs his back soothingly. He looks up at Chan for an explanation, but Jeongin grabs at his jumper to keep his attention. 

“I wouldn’t do that to you. I wouldn’t ever - ever -“

“Sh, hey.” Chan crouches next to him, hauls him up onto the couch so that he can burrow into Jisung’s side. “There. Just breathe for a second, ok? Hannie doesn’t even know what you’re talking about, remember?”

He keeps the explanation short. One of his hands rests hot on Jeongin’s hip. Jeongin keeps his face half hidden in Jisung’s shoulder, trying not to listen.

When they get to the accusation, Jisung hisses in a little gasp. Jeongin forces himself upright against the dizziness and the exhaustion, presses a trembling hand to the older boy’s arm.

“Hyung, I _promise_ , I wouldn’t -“

“Oh my god, I know you wouldn’t.” Jisung wraps both arms and a leg around Jeongin, squeezes him in tight. “I know that. I’ll tell them. It’s ok.”

Nobody says anything for a little while. Jeongin’s eyes sting and he peels himself unsteadily away from Chan and Jisung. 

“I - can I go to bed?”

“Of course, aegi. Do you want someone with you?” Chan looks so sad. They all do. Jeongin can’t meet anyone’s eyes. 

“No,” he says, barely even a whisper. “I’m - I’m ok.”

He doesn’t turn the light on in his room, or bother getting changed, just crawls into his bed and crushes the toy Hyunjin gave him to his chest. Curling up tight, he presses his open mouth to his pillow, taking huge, wracking breaths to silence the sobs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A teeny reminder that I'm not Korean and I've sort of just used what I know of the honorifics etc - please let me know if anything is jarringly wrong or sounds weird. Also let me know what you liked and didn't like in general if you want! x


	3. iii

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'm afraid whether or not you took the drugs is not in question, Jeongin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's chapter 3! Last chapter we had medical nonsense based loosely on fact, and in this one we have some legal nonsense based loosely on fact - enjoy! 
> 
> Thanks so much everyone who's commented - I love hearing what you think so much :) x

Hyunjin was right, Jeongin thinks dazedly, he has lost weight. He stares at himself in the mirror. He looks awful - pale and washed out, divots like thumbprints in his cheeks. His collarbones stand out sharply. His wrists look like they could snap. 

It feels like he's looking at a stranger. He's drunk with exhaustion, can't connect the face he's looking at with his own. The bathroom counter is cold against his hands when he presses them down hard, trying to focus. 

Someone knocks softly on the door. "Innie? Are you ok? We need to go."

Jeongin doesn't move. He's so afraid that it's gone right through him, taken him out of his body. The longer he stays in here, the longer he's still in Stray Kids. The longer he stays in here, the longer he can pretend that none of it is happening at all. 

"Innie." 

The door opens, because he's not allowed to lock it any more in case he collapses. Chan leans on the doorframe.

"We need to go," he says gently. 

Jeongin bites his lip and nods. Chan holds out a big purple jumper and Jeongin takes it automatically and holds it in his hands, running his thumb over the fabric. It's very soft. Chenille, he thinks the fabric is called. He's not sure if it's his or not. He's definitely seen Felix wearing it before.

"Innie," Chan says again, startling him. "Put it on, yeah?"

Yes. Jeongin can do that. He tugs it over his head, gets briefly caught in a sleeve until Chan pulls on it for him, straightening it out. He sets his hands on Jeongin's shoulders afterwards, squeezes. 

"Hey. It's going to be ok, alright?"

Jeongin can't look at him. He smiles somewhere in the direction of Chan's stomach, and slips past to find his shoes. 

They sit in a line outside of Iseul's office. Jisung is jiggling his leg so hard Jeongin can feel it, vibrating all the way up from the bench to his clenched teeth, and something in his hyung's pocket is rattling. 

"It's going to be ok," Chan says for the hundredth time. His hand is heavy on Jeongin's knee - they made him sit in the middle, and both of them keep touching him. Jeongin can't decide if he wants to lean into it or flinch away. 

Iseul calls them in. Jeongin's head swims threateningly when he stands, and he leans into the hand Jisung sets on the small of his back as they walk in. 

They bow, and Iseul gestures them into chairs without smiling. It's like his personality has done a complete 180, and Jeongin is terrified. He doesn't know this man, he doesn't know how he'll react, he doesn't know what's about to happen.

Iseul sits in the middle of the table, with someone Jeongin thinks is from the legal team on one side and Donghyun, one of the other managers, on the other. Donghyun offers a gentle smile.

"Jeongin-ah, how are you feeling?" he says. 

Jeongin is so pleased to hear the pet name that he almost wilts with relief. "Better, hyung-nim, thank you."

His voice is tiny. Chan's hand lands back on his knee under the table.

"You know that you're in here today because of a contract violation," Iseul starts. 

Jeongin stares at his lap. He doesn't know what to say, or how he can say anything without sounding insolent. Chan's fingers tighten on his leg, and his leader leans forward.

"With respect, hyung-nim, Jeongin hasn't violated his contract," he says. "I know - we all know he didn't take those drugs."

"The drugs were in his blood, and he took enough of them to require hospitalisation," Iseul says. "An overdose. Public intoxication of any kind and use of any illegal substances - that includes medical drugs you are not prescribed - is very specifically prohibited in your contracts. You are all well aware of this."

"Please, hyung-nim, I didn't take anything," Jeongin says. His voice shrinks with every word. Tears are already welling in his eyes again and he stares at his lap, trying to force them back.

"You have easy access to the drug," Iseul says, slightly more gently. He nods at Jisung. "It's kept in your household. It showed up in your blood results. I'm afraid whether you took the drugs or not is not in question, Jeongin."

"Hyung-nim," Jisung blurts out. "Sorry, I'm sorry to interrupt, I just - Jeonginnie would never take my medication, and I can prove it."

He fumbles a box out of his pocket, spills out two blister packs full of pills. "My presciption is three months, and I renewed it in January, look - I take them once a day. If you count them -"

"This is not the first prescription you've had of this drug," Iseul says firmly. "He could have obtained the pills at any point within the last year. Once again, whether or not he took the drug is not in question here. It's a contract violation, and it should result in termination."

There's a thick silence and Jeongin's breath catches in his throat. Jisung grabs for his hand and Chan moves his chair closer, the metal screeching on the floor, to put his arm around Jeongin's shoulders. 

"You can't make him leave," he says firmly. "Jinyoung-hyung -"

"Is aware of the situation, and extremely displeased," Iseul says, "but fortunately for you, he agrees that the group cannot afford to lose another member so soon."

Jeongin swallows, tries to control his breathing and manages not to sob. He can't do anything about the tears, which slide relentlessly down his cheeks.

"We're putting you on contract probation, Jeongin. There is no room for error here. We need your word that you will never again take this drug or any other mind-altering substance, including alcohol, for the duration of your employment, and we're going to have you sign an addendum to your current contract to this effect. If you violate this, your employment will be terminated and you will forfeit any writing or royalty credits on anything already released or recorded."

It's too much to understand. Jeongin's so tired still. A headache throbs in his temple. 

"Look at me and tell me that you will not take this drug again."

Jeongin has to steel himself to look up. He opens his mouth to answer but closes it again when there's nothing he can think to say that isn't admitting to something he hasn't done. 

"Hyung-nim, he didn't take -"

"That is not in question." Iseul cuts Chan off, scowling. "Jeongin, I need your word."

"I, um," Jeongin almost whispers. There's a sudden burst of laughter from the hallway outside and he flinches, mouth closing with a click of his teeth. "I've never -"

"Jeongin."

"Hyung-nim -" Chan starts again.

"Enough," Iseul snaps. "Jeongin."

"I promise I won't take the drug again," Jeongin says tonelessly. The tears tickle his cheeks but he doesn't move to wipe them away. 

"And you understand that doing so will result in immediate termination of your contract and relinquishing of your writing and royalty credits on music released during your time with JYP?"

"I understand."

"Thank you. Sign here."

Iseul gestures and the legal representative slides over a piece of paper. Jeongin's hand is visibly shaking when he picks it up. His cheeks burn. 

There's nothing on the paper that Iseul didn't say aloud, but Chan puts his hand over Jeongin's when he goes to pick the pen up.

"Hyung-nim, we're supposed to have 48 hours to go over contract amendments."

Iseul scoffs a little. The lawyer, a bored-looking younger guy, clears his throat. "Ah, as this is a result of a disciplinary action, this counts as an emergency amendment and we can request signage within 12 hours of the event or the event's discovery. That clause can be found in your original contract."

"Do you have a copy of Jeongin's contract here?"

The lawyer flips open a file and draws it out. It feels like barely any time at all since Jeongin was in this building with his parents, signing that piece of paper, so excited he could barely keep still. 

"The emergency amendment clause," the lawyer says, pointing with a pen.

Chan pulls the contract towards him and starts reading, his mouth scrunched up to one side the way it gets when he's stressed. Jeongin tries to look too, but the words are so blurry through the tears that he gives up.

"As you can see, the clause is in there, and we are legally within our rights to demand the amendment," Iseul says. "Jeongin, sign, please."

Jeongin's temples throb. He picks up the pen again, scribbles his signature while barely looking at the page, and swallows another sob.

At his sides, Jisung keeps twitching towards him as though he wants to hug him, and Chan is practically vibrating with anger. Iseul glances over the paper and passes it back to the lawyer.

"Jisung," he says, too loudly. Jisung jumps, his eyes going round and startled like a cartoon.

"Yes, hyung-nim?"

"I assume I know the answer, given your previous statements, but you were asked here in case you have any objection to Jeongin continuing to live at your dorm, considering it is your medication that was taken -"

"I know he -"

"Do not interrupt," Iseul says. He looks like he's done with all of them. His tone makes Jeongin's heart clench but he's so grateful to have the attention off him, even just for a minute, that he's afraid to move. 

"I'm sorry, hyung-nim," Jisung says, bowing a little.

"Do you have any objection to your current living arrangement?"

"No, hyung-nim." Jisung squeezes Jeongin's limp fingers. 

Jeongin stops listening as Iseul wraps the meeting up and dismisses them. He bows automatically when the others do, and then lets them lead him out into the hallway. His legs feel weak again, threatening to buckle under him, and he sways a little until Jisung wraps an arm around his waist. Somehow he's still crying, steadily, like a dripping tap. Like he might never stop. 

"The others are in the practice room," Chan says gently. "Do you want to go down there, or do you want me to find someone to take you home?"

"I can't go home," Jeongin says thickly, "if I don't practice - they'll say I'm - and they'll -"

He can barely get the words out, but they understand anyway. Jisung rubs his back as they head towards the lifts. 

They pass several people on their way. Jeongin keeps his head down and tries to walk quickly, although the way he's shaking makes that almost impossible. Less than 24 hours have passed since he was so humiliated at the idea of someone carrying him through this building, and now here he is being led through its corridors crying like a child.

It's between hours, so Jeongin hopes that downstairs where the practice rooms are will be reasonably empty, but predictably they walk straight into half of GOT7 and a handful of staff as soon as they exit the lifts. Jeongin stares at the floor. He can barely keep hold of his breathing any more.

Chan and Jisung greet the older group politely but distractedly. Jeongin doesn't say anything.

"You ok, kids?" Mark sounds concerned, kind, and Jeongin can't take it. His next inhale turns into a breathy sob, and then another, and he ducks his head down even further to hide in Jisung's shoulder.

"Take him to the others, yeah, Han-ah?" he hears Chan murmur, and then finds himself being nudged into moving again.

Jisung keeps him close and talks to him all the way down the corridor, about how they're almost there and things will be ok and Chan will probably speak to JYP himself about it, because JYP loves Chan, so Jeongin shouldn't worry, and anyway everyone knows he wouldn't take drugs, and the members would never allow him to leave, and they love him. Jeongin hardly takes any of it in but he's grateful for the distraction.

He’s starting to feel sick again, and he doesn’t know if it’s anxiety or lack of sleep or - something else. Those pills are still in Jisung’s pocket and even their presence feels threatening, like he might somehow absorb them into his body through the air. 

Faint strains of God's Menu are audible as they approach the practice room. Jisung sings along under his breath, pushing open the door. 

The first thing Jeongin sees is his own reflection. He looks small, even under Jisung’s arm, and just as thin and fragile as this morning, only now his face is shiny with tears. The apples of his cheeks are flushed red, the rest of his face pale as milk. He looks terrible. His skin crawls with shame. 

The second thing he sees is Felix's shirt, pressing over his face as his hyung sweeps him into a hug. 

“Hey,” Felix murmurs, “oh, Innie, what happened?”

Jeongin hunches down a little to burrow against his shoulder. He doesn't trust himself to try and speak.

“Where’s Chan-hyung?” he hears Minho ask. 

Jisung hasn’t moved away. He pats Jeongin’s hip. “We ran into GOT7-hyungs in the hall, I think he’s just -“

He cuts off as the door opens and Jeongin finds himself being shuffled along as Chan enters the room. 

“Hey, guys,” he says tiredly.

“What happened?” Felix repeats. He hasn’t let go, one hand curled over the back of Jeongin’s head, the other tight around his waist. 

“I’ll explain,” says Chan. “Come sit down. Can someone get Jeonginnie some water?”

Jeongin goes where he's led, curling up into Felix's side on the couch. His hand trembles violently when he takes the little cup of water Seungmin hands him. 

"It's ok," Felix murmurs, wrapping his hand over Jeongin's fingers to steady him.

A warm weight settles at his back - Minho - and Hyunjin sits on the floor, laying his arm over Jeongin's knees. The others gather in close, too, and Chan sits on the arm of the couch to sum up the meeting.

The room erupts with noise.

"That is ridiculous."

"There's no evidence."

"That can't be legal."

"How could they do this?" Hyunjin sounds like he might be about to cry, and Jeongin can't look at him. "Why aren't they listening to us? Hyung -"

"I know," Chan says. "I'm angry too, ok? I'm going to speak to JYP as soon as I can."

"But he signed the amendment," Changbin starts, "so -"

"He didn't have a choice," says Jisung, "it was - Iseul basically coerced him into it. But that legal guy was there too."

"Aren't we supposed to have two days for contract stuff?" Seungmin says.

Chan explains what the lawyer said, and the conversation starts going round in circles. Jeongin closes his eyes.

"Innie, how are you feeling?" Minho says quietly, under the racket. His voice is soft, much calmer than everyone else. "I don't like you being here when you've barely been out of the hospital for five minutes."

"I can't go home," Jeongin says for the second time. "They'll say I'm on drugs again and they'll kick me out -"

"Sh," Minho soothes, "don't; don't think about that. We aren't letting anyone kick you out. Just tell me how you're feeling."

Jeongin lets his head fall more heavily on Felix's chest. "Sick. Tired." Same as always, he wants to add, sulkily, but he reins it in.

Felix hums sympathetically, and Jeongin feels him kiss the top of his head. He shuts his eyes and tries to take a deep breath. His body shudders with the effort.

"Alright," Chan says eventually, quieting everyone down. "We aren't getting anywhere with this and we've still got schedules to get through. If we fall behind, we're just giving them a reason to punish us, yeah?"

He scrubs his hand over his hair, looking exhausted, and Jeongin bites guiltily at his lip.

"Everyone just get through your stuff today, and we'll talk later. I'm gonna look at the calendar and check that one of us is around to be with Innie."

The calendar is a logistical beast, with colour-coded individual, group and sub-unit scheduling, and Jeongin watches detachedly as Chan scrolls through it, finding him babysitters.

"You don't have to do that," he mumbles, "I don't need -"

"IN-ah," Minho chides, "you're ill."

"You were literally in the hospital yesterday," Changbin says.

"And we still don't know how those drugs got into your blood." Seungmin's tone is carefully light, but he's frowning.

Felix hums again, low in his throat and worried-sounding, and squeezes Jeongin tighter. "My Innie."

" _No, he is mine_ ," Hyunjin says in English. He wraps his arms around Jeongin's legs, leaning his head on his lap like a loyal dog, and pretends to bite his knee. Jeongin laughs, but it's a jagged, ugly sound.

Jeongin is everyone's, it turns out. One of his members stays by him at all times for the rest of the day, and he hates and is grateful for it in equal measure. Practice and lessons pass in a nauseating haze, until he finds himself curled up on the couch in Changbin's studio, where he can finally, finally nap. 

"I'll say you've been doing guides for me, if anyone comes in," his hyung says. "You feeling ok?"

"Sick," Jeongin says, for what must be the twentieth time today. He's trying not to sulk, but sometimes it feels like it's that or cry, and he's done enough of that to last a lifetime. 

Changbin pouts at him and makes him drink some water, and then tucks him under a hoodie. For someone whose resting face is so serious, Changbin almost never frowns. Jeongin hates to be the cause of it. 

"Stop looking at me like that," he mumbles. "'M'fine."

"No you aren't," Changbin says lightly. "But you will be. Go to sleep now, like a good baby."

He pets Jeongin's hair and then pinches his cheek, making a cute noise, and Jeongin rolls his eyes before closing them.

He wakes to the sound of his own voice, a weak little groaning noise he doesn't even recognise at first. He presses his lips together hard, swallowing against the nausea, but his stomach rolls and he gives up, sliding off the couch to his knees and only barely making it to the bin before he's throwing up. His throat burns.

Changbin has his big studio headphones on, so it's a few seconds before he notices. Jeongin hears him swear and clatter down off his chair, and a gentle hand lands on his back.

"Hey, you ok? Hyung's sorry; I couldn't hear you," he murmurs. 

Jeongin leans against him a little, retching, but there's barely anything to bring up, and eventually he just slumps over, breathing heavily. 

Changbin rubs his side. "It's past five. I'm gonna call hyung and see if we can take you home, yeah? You need some proper rest and we still have to talk about... all of this."

He helps Jeongin back up onto the couch and scoops his phone off the desk, taking the bin with him out of the room. Jeongin finds his water bottle, rammed down between the couch cushions, and rinses his mouth, breathing slowly. He's been doing an ok job of not thinking about all of this so far today, but now he feels cold, like the shadow of it has fallen over him again. He shivers.

"Hey," Changbin says, coming back in.

Jeongin jumps so hard his stomach turns again. He folds over his knees, trying not to be sick again.

"Ah, sorry, sorry." Changbin sits next to him and strokes his back. "Didn't mean to scare you. Chan-hyung's calling a car; Seungmin, Hyunjin and Minho are gonna come with us, and then the others in half an hour."

Jeongin nods tiredly. He staggers a little when he stands, head swimming, and Changbin curses, grabs him around the waist.

"You're ok," he says, much more confidently than Jeongin feels. "We'll be home soon."

He shoulders both of their bags and leads Jeongin to the door.

"And if you don't tell Chan-hyung that I swore, I'll get you those watermelon sweets you like."

Everyone’s quiet on the way home. Hyunjin lets Jeongin rest his head in his lap, rubs gently at the base of his skull, and Jeongin tries to fall asleep. He thinks it’s ironic that his blood is full of sedatives and yet he can't manage more than a nap at once.

He can’t stay alert, either, the world pulsing and sliding around when he tries to focus. Hyunjin’s jeans have a loose thread and Jeongin reaches for it with clumsy fingers. He only manages to paw loosely at his hyung’s knee. 

Above him, Hyunjin makes a soft, endeared noise, and wraps his fingers around Jeongin’s. His hand is impossibly warm. Jeongin holds on, and closes his eyes. 

Back at the dorm, he makes it almost all the way inside without incident. Hyunjin and Seungmin are practically dragging him, and Jeongin tries hard to keep his eyes open and his feet under him. They're halfway to the couch when his hands start going numb.

It's a familiar sign. Nausea swoops in his stomach. Jeongin starts to say something, but loses track as the edge of his vision melt white, then brown, then black.

"Innie," he hears. "Jeongin. Can you hear me?"

Someone's touching his face. He's lying down now, something soft under his head, but at an awkward angle, a lump digging into his neck. His ears are ringing. 

"Innie."

His legs feel heavy and he realises someone's holding them up, hands at his ankles. The hands on his face move, stroking along his forehead, and Jeongin blinks open his eyes. 

Hyunjin smiles down at him, stroking his face again. "Hey. It's ok; you're alright. You just passed out."

It's the first time since all of this started that someone's been with him when he comes to. Jeongin's breath hitches at the thought. 

"Sh, it's ok." Hyunjin picks up his hand and squeezes it. "Just stay here for a second until you feel better. Hyung's getting you some juice."

"You need the sugar," Minho says. 

Jeongin cranes his neck a little, looking away from Hyunjin, and finds Minho sitting on the floor at his side, and Seungmin in one of the chairs from the kitchen, holding Jeongin's feet in his lap. They both smile gently at him.

"You're awake!" Changbin appears with a glass, beaming like Jeongin's just won an award or something. Jeongin appreciates the sentiment, but he can't help but wish that regaining consciousness didn't merit that much of a reaction.

"How long was I..?" His voice is thready and weak. 

"Nearly a minute," Seungmin says, rubbing Jeongin's shin. He holds up his phone, the stopwatch paused on the screen. "If it went over, we were gonna call an ambulance."

"You can't." Jeongin tries to sit up, but Hyunjin won't let him. "You can't - if it happens again, you can't call an ambulance. If they find more of - of that stuff in my blood, they'll terminate my contract. You heard Chan-hyung. Please. Please don't."

His voice cracks and Hyunjin squeezes his shoulders. 

"We can't promise that, aegi," Minho says, very, very gently. "Not when you could be really sick. What if something happened because we waited? We'd never forgive ourselves."

Jeongin presses his lips together, looking away. He doesn't care if something happens to him, as long as he gets to stay in Stray Kids, but he knows better than to say that out loud. 

"Have some juice," Changbin says, placating. "Rest now and we'll talk when the others are home."

They help Jeongin sit up, leaning against Hyunjin's chest. Changbin pokes his lips with a straw until he drinks. It's Felix's favourite juice, apple raspberry, the taste of it bright and almost too sweet on Jeongin's tongue. 

Seungmin's let his legs down, but tucks his feet either side of Jeongin's ankles, trapping them together. He's smiling and frowning at the same time, like he maybe wants to both coddle Jeongin and punch him. Jeongin gets it. 

"Sorry," he says, and Seungmin kicks him in the ankle. 

"Don't say sorry."

"Don't kick him; he's barely out of the hospital," Minho says. 

His voice goes high-pitched at the end of the sentence, and Changbin imitates it at once. Hyunjin laughs, his chest moving with it under Jeongin's shoulders, and Jeongin finds himself smiling, too. 

Minho pinches his cheek. "That's better."

They make him finish the juice, and then Jeongin pleads to be allowed to move to the couch. The others will be back soon, and he can't bear to be found lying on the floor like this. 

"Chan-hyung already knows you passed out," Changbin says unapologetically. 

"Why?" Jeongin whines.

Changbin raises his eyebrows. "Are you serious? You were literally unconscious."

"It was scary, Innie," Hyunjin says softly. He's got his knees up either side of Jeongin's hips, caging him in with his body, and he nudges their temples together. It's warm, and helps a little with the pang his words spark in Jeongin's chest.

"'M'sorry," Jeongin mumbles. Seungmin goes to kick him again, but Minho catches his foot.

"If you feel ok to stand, you can come sit on the couch," Hyunjin says. "But we'll go slowly, ok?"

Jeongin obeys, letting Changbin and Minho lift him carefully to his feet. They keep hold of his arms to walk him over to the couch, and he leans on them, even as it feels a little like he's being arrested. Jeongin sinks back onto one of the big cushions. He's so, so tired. 

"Do you need anything?" Minho says, petting his arm.

"Um," Jeongin says. He doesn't want to say anything. He knows how they'll react, and he hates being needy, but the couch leather is cold through his jumper, and he feels odd, vulnerable, so in the end he gives in.

"Hyunjinnie-hyung," he says, very quietly. "Can you, um."

Hyunjin gets it at once, because it's Hyunjin, and beams delightedly. "Do you want a cuddle, aegi?"

He wedges himself in the gap between Jeongin and the arm of the couch, and Jeongin lets himself be rearranged until he's curled up against the older boy's chest. Changbin clasps his hands under his chin, making a baby face, but nobody else reacts, and Jeongin relaxes a little. 

"How are you feeling?" Minho says, hovering. "You haven't eaten very much today."

Jeongin looks at his lap, tugging his sleeves down over his bony wrists. "'M'nauseous," he says. "Got a headache. I'll eat later; I promise."

Hyunjin makes a worried little noise, moving his hand from Jeongin's hair to rub lightly at his temple. It's soothing. Someone puts the TV on, and the others talk quietly amongst themselves. Jeongin shuts his eyes.

He half-dozes for a little while, until the sound of the others coming home jars him into alertness. He doesn't move - Hyunjin is warm and comfortable - but smiles tiredly as they file into the living room. Felix tucks himself up against Jeongin's other side at once, scooping his ankles into his lap.

"Hi, hyung," Jeongin says. "Stole some of your juice."

"Heard it was for a good cause," Felix says kindly. 

Chan stands in the middle of the room, looking around at everyone. Jisung and Minho are on the other end of the couch, and Seungmin and Changbin in the armchairs. Chan shoves the coffee table back a little and sits on it.

"You ok? Minho texted me."

Jeongin squirms under the scrutiny. "Yeah. It was just for a second."

"Nearly a minute," Seungmin corrects at once, and Jeongin sticks his tongue out at him. 

Chan frowns at him, chewing at his lip, but leaves it. 

"Ok, so," he says heavily. "We all know where we stand with JYP right now. He wasn't in the office today, but I'm going to try and meet with him this week and get Jeongin out of this contract thing."

"So now we just need to work out how Innie's blood got filled with tranquilisers," Jisung says. Jeongin winces a little, and Felix slaps Jisung on the leg. 

Chan rolls his eyes at them, but nods. "Well. Yeah."

"It - I mean," Seungmin says, a little carefully. "Isn't it obvious?"

Jeongin glances around the room. Chan, Changbin and Minho look like they know what's coming, but Jisung is still frowning, confused. Felix and Hyunjin are too close for Jeongin to see their expressions, but Hyunjin's arm around him has gone very tense, and Felix is holding his breath.

Jeongin doesn't want any part of this conversation. It's not going to help, hearing what they all think. He just wants to go to sleep.

"It can't be something in the water, or whatever," Jisung says. "We all basically eat and drink the same stuff. And we all take the same painkillers."

"Well, yeah, and it's been going on too long," Seungmin says quietly. "Maybe once he could have had it by accident, but not all this time. I think it's on purpose."

Jeongin thinks he feels his heart physically stop. That isn't what he was expecting. He sucks in a breath, swallows it before it can turn into tears. "Hyung," he whispers instead.

"No." Seungmin leans out of his chair to grab at him, squeezing his hand in a way that's half comforting, half painful. "No, not you; I know you wouldn't. I didn't mean it like that."

Jeongin goes a little limp with relief, his head dropping back into Hyunjin's neck.

"What did you mean, then?" Felix says. He sounds resigned.

Seungmin looks at him, holding Jeongin's hand a little tighter. Jeongin is pressed up against Hyunjin's shoulder and can't see all of Seungmin's face, but he can tell he's hesitating.

"It's - I think someone's doing it on purpose. Someone's - someone's drugging him." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun.


	4. iv

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I'll protect you, alright?" Chan says, almost awkwardly. “We all will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CHAPTER FOUR! I'm sorry this has been a slightly longer wait - I had quite a lot already written at the beginning and now I've overtaken myself. Hopefully not quite as long next time :)
> 
> CW: Jeongin Goes Through It a little in this chapter and there's a description of a panic attack. If you want to avoid it, stop reading at "They all call after him." and start again at "There you are."

There’s a long, tense silence, and then Chan gives a heavy sigh. 

“Yeah, I think so too."

Jeongin stares at his lap. No one seems very surprised, and honestly, neither is he, but hearing it said out loud hits him like a punch to the chest.

"I don't know how," Chan continues, a bit gentler. "Like Hannie said, we all mostly eat and drink the same things - or if not  _ all _ of us, then at least a couple."

"But who could be doing something like that?" Jisung says. "Who's even around us enough..?"

"Don't we need to know how it's happening before we can work that out?"

"Why would someone  _ drug _ him?"

Jeongin pushes Hyunjin's arm off and gets unsteadily to his feet. "I - sorry - I need to go."

They all call after him, and Felix and Minho try to catch his hands, too, but Jeongin staggers past them as fast as he can and into the bathroom, locking the door with shaking fingers. 

He can't breathe. He drops to his knees on the ground, the cold tile biting at his skin, and fists his hands at his temples. He couldn't stay in that room a second longer, couldn't listen to the others dissect his life, his movements, trying to work out how someone is trying to - hurt him? Kill him? Get him thrown out? Jeongin doesn't  _ know _ ; he doesn't know any of it; he doesn't  _ understand _ . 

His lungs burn and his head swims. His chest hurts. Someone is knocking on the door, and Jeongin knows he isn't supposed to lock it any more, maybe for a reason, because he's dying, because the drug's got into his lungs, or his heart, and now it's going to kill him.

The knocking gets harder, forceful enough that he can see the door rattle through blurry eyes. 

"Innie," the voice calls, "I need you to open the door."

Jeongin sobs. 

"Please, honey." It's Chan, the only one of them who ever calls him that. "It's just me. I've sent everyone to their rooms. Let me in."

He can't breathe, his lungs won't expand, he's just swallowing air. He folds forward, curling over his knees. His face is wet with tears. He doesn't know when he started crying. Chan's still talking but Jeongin can't parse the words.

His heart hurts, his throat stings, he can’t breathe, he can’t breathe. Chan is yelling and Jeongin is dying and he can’t do this; he doesn’t want to be alone any more. He slumps over, his shoulder hitting the door, and fumbles a sweaty hand up to turn the lock.

Chan pushes at the door at once and Jeongin lets it move him, curling up even smaller.

"Ok, ok, it's ok," Chan says in a rush. He kneels at Jeongin's side, grabs him by the shoulders and hauls him upright. "You're alright, Innie; you just need to breathe."

"'M'dying," Jeongin gasps. 

"No, honey, you're not. I wouldn't let that happen, would I? It's a panic attack. You know what those are." 

His hand moves over Jeongin's back in slow, heavy circles. 

"Hyung - someone's -  _ poisoning _ \- me," Jeongin sobs jerkily, "I can't -  _ breathe _ -"

"You can," Chan says firmly. "I'm going to have you hold your breath, ok? Don't think about it; just do it. Hyung's got you."

Jeongin fights to comply. It takes a long minute to get his chest to stop heaving. 

"Good. Keep holding it a second, and then I want you to breathe out as hard as you can. Push all the air out of your lungs. Ok? Breathe out now."

He repeats this a few times, until Jeongin stops hyperventilating and manages to inhale in shaky but regular breaths. It takes several minutes, but Chan's hands are steady on his back and his wrist, his gaze careful. Jeongin breathes.

"There you are. It's ok. You're ok," Chan chants. “I’m not surprised, you know. I think you’ve been bottling a lot of stuff up lately.” He rubs his thumb over Jeongin’s hand. “You can talk to us. To me.”

Jeongin doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He feels like all he’s done is cry all over everyone for days and days. Shame crawls over him, cold as an approaching fog.

Someone appears in the doorway, says something in a low voice. 

"It's alright; he's fine," Chan says over his shoulder. "Can you get some water? A bottle, if we have any?"

The door shuts. Jeongin lets his hyung manoeuvre him until he's leaning up against his chest, and drops his head to Chan's collarbone. He feels so, so sick.

"It's going to be ok," Chan says again. 

"It's not."

Chan hugs him in closer. "I'll protect you, alright?" he says, almost awkwardly. “We all will.”

"You can't," Jeongin says. His voice is wet with tears, his breath sniffling humiliatingly like a child's. He doesn't know if he means  _ you're not able to _ or  _ you shouldn't  _ or  _ I don't want you to _ . It might be all of them at once.

"Yah," Chan rumbles. "Don't tell your hyung what he can't do."

Jeongin huffs a laugh, lets it turn back into crying, and presses his face into Chan's shirt. The door opens again but he keeps his head down. Minho murmurs to Chan for a minute, lays a soft hand briefly on the nape of Jeongin's neck, and then leaves them. 

  
  


They sit there long enough that one of Jeongin's legs has started to go numb, and he's shivering where the cold from the floor has bled through his clothes. Chan's arms are still round him, keeping him tucked in close, hands rubbing at his leg and his shoulder. Jeongin feels raw and wrung through with crying, weak with sickness and exhaustion. He wants to go to sleep until all of this has gone away. 

Chan makes him drink some water, and doesn't comment when he catches Jeongin's gaze lingering on the unbroken seal. 

"You need to eat something, ok?" he says. His tone brooks no argument. 

Jeongin's stomach rolls and he makes a face, but Chan just smiles cheerlessly at him, ruffling his hair back from his forehead. "No arguments. Minho ordered stuff you like."

"Do we - are the others," Jeongin fumbles. "I can't talk about -"

Chan keeps fussing with his hair, almost petting him now. "I know. We can talk about it a bit later. The guys know not to ask for now. It's ok."

He thumbs the tears from Jeongin's face. "Are you feeling ok?"

Jeongin shrugs, ducking away. He feels caught out, embarrassed, like Chan's seen him naked. He wants to hide. 

"Sick," he mumbles. "Not dizzy right now, but, um, sort of weak? I don't know how to describe it."

"Ok," Chan says, sitting back a little to let Jeongin wriggle out of his embrace. "You can lie down until the food comes, if you want?"

Jeongin escapes gratefully to his room, fumbling into a fleecy jumper and his softest sweats and burrowing under his covers. Jisung isn't there - presumably he's hidden away with the others - and Jeongin doesn't even bother turning the light on, just presses his face into the cool of the pillow until he falls asleep.

  
  


Felix wakes him, his hand small in the curve of Jeongin's back, a slight weight on the edge of the mattress. Jeongin rolls over, pressing his lips together against the answering churn of his stomach.

"Hi, Innie," Felix says. He's smiling, backlit by the light creeping round the open door, and he sort of looks like an angel. "You've gotta come eat now, ok?"

He tucks his arm around Jeongin's waist to lead him into the kitchen. Jeongin leans into him. He feels woozy, weak-limbed, as though he's just getting over a long illness. Except, he thinks, it's probably just starting. 

"Hey, you ok?"

Jeongin realises he's stopped walking. He swallows the threat of tears or panic ,or both, and turns slightly into Felix's warm shoulder. Felix hugs him, sudden and hard. 

"I love you, ok?" he says. He sounds like his teeth are gritted. He sounds like he might cry. Jeongin ducks his head into Felix’s neck and breathes, slow.

  
  


He sits between Felix and Hyunjin at the table. They both move their chairs claustrophobically close, and he sinks low in his. He eats plain rice, his hands shaking as he fumbles with his chopsticks. Eventually Minho passes over a spoon without saying anything, and Jeongin holds it loosely in his fist, the metal cool to the touch. 

It's the most he's eaten in days, and it sits heavy in his stomach. The others are talking around him - a little subdued, but almost normal - but Jeongin doesn't speak, just picks at his rice and stares at the table. Eventually, everyone falls silent, and when Jeongin looks up, they’re all glancing between him and Chan.

“Ok,” their leader says gently. “I know this is hard, but the company… So far they’re not behind us on this, so it’s just us, and if we’re right, we’ve got to work out how we can stop it happening again.”

He mustn’t take food from anyone, they say. Or drinks. Only stuff they buy themselves, or they bring from home. Only things that come sealed, like bottles. He won’t go anywhere alone if they can help it. He mustn’t eat from the dressing room tables, or continue eating anything that he’s put down or left in a bag unsupervised. 

Jeongin nods at each instruction, smaller and smaller every time. It makes sense, he knows that, but it still feels like only half a solution, because there’s still someone out there trying to hurt him. A shadow. A ghost. 

He shivers.

“The rest of us should do it too, as much as we can without it drawing attention,” Minho says. “If someone would hurt one of us, they’d hurt all of us.”

Jeongin shakes his shoulder out to hide his wince, stares down at his hands. One is still purple with bruising from the IV.

Hyunjin trails him to bed that night. He wanders around the room, touching all of Jeongin’s and Jisung’s things to try and look like he has a purpose, talking idly about nothing. Jeongin ignores him as he gets ready, shoving clothes in his bag for tomorrow, until the older boy sits down next to him and gently touches his arm to stop him.

“Innie, do you want me to stay with you tonight?”

Jeongin blinks. “I - in my bed?”

He always sleeps by himself. He naps on people, sure, but that’s it. That's the rule he set for himself when they moved in, and (barring the very worst nights, the ones he never, ever thinks about) he never breaks it.

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says, looking at him with soft, unreadable eyes. “You’ve had a hard day. You’re sad.”

Jeongin blinks again, harder this time, because he’s absolutely reached his quota of crying in front of people for the next ten years. “I’m fine.”

Hyunjin rolls his eyes. “Don’t lie to hyung.”

“I’m ok, hyung, I swear,” Jeongin says, as earnestly as he can manage, but it comes out small. “I just - I just need to process.”

“Ok.” Hyunjin sighs, and looks at him probingly for a long time. “You’ll come and get me if you need me.”

It’s not a question. He takes the bag out of Jeongin’s hands and quietly refolds the clothes in it, winds up the wire of Jeongin’s headphones to tuck those in too. Then he gets up, walking over to rifle in Jeongin’s wardrobe. “I’m putting another sweater in here. It’s cold tomorrow.”

Jeongin watches him tiredly. Hyunjin packs everything in neatly and then zips the bag up, dropping it at the end of the bed. “There. Ready now.”

He pokes Jeongin in the cheek and goes to leave, but Jeongin catches his wrist. He pulls Hyunjin back and wraps his arms around the older boy’s waist, just as quickly and tightly as Felix hugged him in the hallway. “Thanks.”

Hyunjin strokes his hair. “That’s ok, Innie.”

Jeongin has to force himself to let go. He curls up as small as he can under his covers, and counts his breaths to keep from crying until he falls asleep.

  
  
  


Despite Hyunjin packing for him, Jeongin finds himself frantically trying to get ready in the minutes before they leave the next morning. He’s feeling a little better - like maybe the day will go by without him throwing up or passing out, much less both. Fingers crossed, he thinks to himself, a little hysterically. 

“IN-ah, we need to go,” Seungmin says from the hall. “Everyone else is already heading down.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Jeongin calls back. “I can’t find my water bottle.”

He’s sure it was on his bedside table at some point last night, but between everything that happened - not to mention Hyunjin moving every single thing he owns, trying to look subtle - it could be anywhere by now. Jeongin does a last lap of the living room and eventually finds it shoved down beneath the couch cushions, not even on the side he was sitting on. 

He sighs, shoves it in his bag and jogs out the door. Seungmin slings an arm around him as they head to the elevators. Jeongin wants to throw him off, but running around the dorm has left him a little lightheaded, so he lets it be.

He has vocal training first thing. Felix has a free hour and has obviously been assigned babysitting duty, so he lurks in the corner. They’re lucky, Jeongin supposes, that they’re codependent enough that nobody questions it. They don’t question his terrible singing, either, even though his throat is clearly shot from all the crying and throwing up, plus the sleep he lost last night talking himself out of giving in and going to Hyunjin’s bed. 

Iseul looks in on them, thankfully near the end, when Jeongin’s strained voice is finally starting to warm up. He nods without saying anything, and stands in the corner for an entire run-through. Jeongin somehow manages not to forget the words, but there's nothing he can do about his trembling fingers.

Felix links arms with him as they head down to the practice room afterwards. He has a look on his face that they’ve all started wearing recently, and Jeongin hates that he can recognise it. 

“I’m ok,” he says, before Felix can ask. “You don’t have to stare.”

“Yesterday,” Felix starts mildly, “you threw up, passed out,  _ and _ had a panic attack. The day before -”

Jeongin looks away from him. “Shut up.”

“Yah. Rude.” Felix raises the least threatening hand in the world and Jeongin puts his hands up, cowers back against the wall. Iseul's gone now, and he's feeling ok, and it's like a small amount of weight has lifted from his shoulders.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry! I meant… shut up,  _ hyung _ .”

Felix grabs at his waist and Jeongin shrieks. He isn’t actually sure when he last laughed. Felix looks delighted, too; he keeps his arm around Jeongin’s shoulders as they start walking again, and hauls him in closer to bite at his hair. Jeongin shoves at him and leans into his shoulder in the same movement.

Their bubble is broken not even a minute later. They walk past some of GOT7 in the hall, unaccompanied by staff this time. Jackson, BamBam and JB are walking quickly, like they’re on their way somewhere, but they all slow down when they see Jeongin and Felix. Jeongin bows a little, automatically - he’s not as familiar with them as some of his hyungs are - as Felix greets them cheerfully.

Jackson’s looking at him, a concerned look on his face. Jeongin feels his ears go red - of course, he looks pale and sick and terrible all the time now, and the last time Jackson saw him he was being led through the corridor crying like a baby. BamBam’s darting glances at him, too, and Jeongin cringes inwardly, hunching miserably down into his jumper. 

Felix must realise something is wrong, because he squeezes him in close. The older boys notice, too, and Jackson smiles kindly at him.

“Are you ok, Jeongin-ah?”

Jeongin nods, mustering up his best smile. 

“Innie’s not been well,” Felix says tactfully. “He should be resting, but -”

“I’m fine, Jackson-hyung,” Jeongin says at once. He’s nervous, and his voice sounds much quieter than he meant it to. “We have so much to do.”

JB frowns in a way that reminds Jeongin instantly of Chan. Where do all the leaders learn this? 

“Well, don’t work too hard, yeah?”

Blushing harder, Jeongin promises he won’t, and BamBam coos at him, pinches his cheek. Felix gets the other cheek as they head down the corridor. 

“See, even GOT7-hyungs can’t resist you, because you are the cutest thing in the whole world.”

  
  
  


For a few days, Jeongin still feels ill, but the more dramatic symptoms seem to be subsiding. Everyone seems so pleased, relieved. Jeongin can’t shake the fear, though. Someone is watching. Someone wants to hurt him. If the pills stop working, who knows what else they’ll try? Who else they’ll target?

He eats what the others give him, or what he can buy himself, sealed, but he can’t stop himself staring at everything before he eats it, wondering  _ Is this..? _ He still feels sick -  _ so _ sick, a nausea that sticks in his stomach and throat like tar. His hands shake constantly. He’s so tired that little shadows sometimes flick at the edges of his vision, like low-flying birds.

Jeongin can’t even think. That’s the worst thing. The world comes at him through a grey haze, like fine rain, and slips through his fingers when he tries to take hold of it. He can’t keep track of conversations any more, so he barely talks. He can’t concentrate on schoolwork, or tv, or music. It’s not like he’s ever been good at keeping track of his belongings, but lately nothing’s ever where he thinks he’s left it, and he can never get his things ready in time. He can’t do anything. He can’t feel anything. 

But he hasn’t passed out in days, and he clings to that, desperate to be better. Their schedules are just starting to ramp up now, and it won’t be long until they start doing photoshoots, videos, TV interviews. This thing - the pills, the sickness, the collapsing - whatever is going on with him, it can’t distract from all their hard work. The thought makes him feel even sicker. 

The members hover. Seungmin makes him describe how he’s feeling a lot, and writes down everything he eats, looking for a pattern. There’s always someone within reach, usually Hyunjin or Chan, and they’re still following him to his schedules. It makes Jeongin’s skin itch with anxiety.  Everything around him is crumbling, his whole life, and he can’t keep it together on his own. He wants so badly to let them comfort him, for someone to hold him and tell him he’ll be alright, and they’re so willing, but the weight of the burden he’s putting on them is heavy round Jeongin’s neck, dragging him down, keeping him still. He pushes their arms away more and more. He waits to cry until everyone’s asleep.

  
  


It’s been four days of the plan, and it’s like none of Jeongin’s muscles will listen to him any more. His head swims - the haze again, swollen into a thick, unwavering fog. They’ve been practising for two hours and are scheduled for two more, but Jeongin keeps stumbling, totally unable to control his body. His ears ring. He has to ask Felix to repeat an instruction three times. 

Fear is making him tense, and he almost snaps at Chan when he tries to suggest Jeongin takes a break. Frustrated tears prick at the corners of his eyes. He scrubs them roughly away. 

Just before lunch, and just when Jeongin thinks he’s going to have to give in and ask to sit down for a while, Iseul appears again. Donghyun is with him, this time, following more casually as Iseul strides into the room, waves off their bowing and greeting, and moves over to the corner with the couches. All their bags are piled over there, and Seungmin and Chan hurry over to move them off the seats. 

“We weren’t expecting you, hyung-nim,” Chan says cautiously to Iseul.

The older man raises an eyebrow. “You can’t be surprised that you’re under closer supervision these days, Chan-ah. One of your members is on probation.”

“Of course,” Chan says. “Did you want to speak with us..?”

Iseul tells them to continue practising, sitting down on the couch without taking his eyes off Jeongin. Jeongin shrinks a little closer to Minho.

Donghyun sits down too, but smiles around at them first. He looks a little awkward, embarrassed, like maybe Iseul’s behaviour is making him uncomfortable. Like he thinks his boss is overreacting. Jeongin’s shoulders relax, just a little, at the thought that at least someone in management might be on his side. 

Minho puts a hand on the back of Jeongin’s neck, guiding him gently back to his place. Jeongin breathes slowly to clear his head, and dances as best he can. 

It’s clear it isn’t good enough. 

Iseul calls Jeongin and Chan into the corridor as soon as the song ends. Jeongin trails after his leader with his head down, refusing to look at the others in the room. He’s let them down,  _ again _ , and he can’t bear to see it on their faces.

He glances around anxiously when they get outside. It doesn’t look like there’s anyone around, but the studio door is round a corner, so anyone could be nearby. Rumours spread like fire at JYP; all it would take is for one trainee to hear the wrong thing and the entire building will think Jeongin is on drugs. He twists his fingers into the hem of his hoodie.

“You know that was sloppy, Jeongin,” Iseul says without preamble. 

“Iseul-ssi, he’s been ill,” Donghyun starts, but the other man silences him with a look, and then turns back, an expression on his face that cuts right through Jeongin’s chest.

“Yes, hyung-nim,” he says. It comes out almost as a whisper.

Chan’s hand comes up to Jeongin’s neck, his palm hot, and Jeongin’s too nervous to shake it off. 

“Bring the standard up. If your performance isn’t good enough, you aren’t doing your job, and you’re already on probation. You both know what the consequences are here.”

“Yes, hyung-nim.”

Iseul frowns at them again and then leaves. Donghyun lingers behind. 

“I’m sorry, boys,” he says gently. “He’s under a lot of stress.”

He gives Jeongin an avuncular smile and squeezes his shoulder. “Try not to worry, ok? Things aren’t as dire as Iseul-ssi would have you believe. Just be good and work hard.”

There’s a painful lump in Jeongin’s throat. He swallows so he can answer. “I will, hyung-nim. I promise.”

“Good boy. I’ll see you later, ok?”

They bow, and Chan rubs Jeongin’s back a little as they return to the practice room. 

“See, IN-ah. Donghyun-hyung is rooting for you. It’s ok.”

Jeongin nods, although he can’t get the cold look in Iseul’s eyes out of his head. 

They practice late - although Jeongin spends part of the evening lying on the couch after Jisung catches him nearly collapsing in the bathroom - and it’s past eleven by the time they get back to the dorm. Jeongin’s so tired his vision is blurry, and he argues with Chan when the leader insists he showers with the door open. 

He knows it’s the sensible thing. His head’s starting to throb, too, and lately he’s taken to sitting down in the shower anyway, because the hot water makes the dizziness worse. It’s just that he’s almost never alone any more, and he feels like a stupid, useless child. A couple of stubborn tears fall while he’s showering - door open - and he shoves his face under the spray to wash them away. 

There’s a little hum of quiet movement in the dorm when he emerges, members moving back and forth from the kitchen and the bathroom to their bedrooms. Felix kisses Jeongin’s temple as he passes, and Changbin ruffles his wet hair. Jisung is already in bed when Jeongin gets back to their room - or mostly; he’s on top of the covers, lying the wrong way up with his feet on the pillow. He blows a kiss, and Jeongin rolls his eyes. 

There’s a glass of water on his bedside table - probably Chan, trying to apologise, although it could be any of the others if they’re feeling maternal. Jeongin smiles a little as he reaches for it. He doesn’t deserve them, really.

Jisung’s fairy lights refract prettily through the water when Jeongin picks the glass up, and it’s only because he stops to look that he notices it at all.

At the bottom of the glass, moving slightly with the movement of the water, there are several clumps of fine, white powder. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dun dun dun, again. 
> 
> I hope you liked it! Please let me know what you think. I hope the characterisations of the members are ok; I've only become a fan pretty recently so not too much to go on. I'm trying to give all of them equal presence, but I do feel like some of them (eg Chan) would naturally play a more active role in taking care of Jeongin etc, so I hope that's working.
> 
> (ALSO. I know the counting and breathing-with-someone methods for stopping panic attacks are the ones that show up most frequently in stories. The one used here is sometimes called the exhalation method and it's my favourite, but might not work for everybody. Proceed with caution etc etc & take care of yourselves) xxx


	5. v

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The hyungs tell him he’s a good maknae. They tell him they love him. What can he have done to make one of them stop?

The air is freezing. 

It burns in Jeongin’s lungs, still sore from running. It stings his wet cheeks. He isn’t sure how long he’s been walking now, or how long he was running before that. His phone is buzzing incessantly in his pocket but he hasn’t looked at it once. It’s pure luck that he has it with him at all - with the door open while he showered, the bathroom was cold, and he put on the same hoodie he’d been wearing at practice. The fabric is wet, chilling his skin in the wind. Jeongin can still hear the sharp crack of the glass hitting the table as he dropped it, feel the shock of water spilling all over him. He imagines the white powder soaking into the material, melting through his skin. Whoever put it there getting to him even now, even after he saw. 

He wants to rip the hoodie off, but he’s not wearing anything underneath. It’s spring, but the air is crisp this late at night, damp with the threat of rain. Jeongin’s hair is wet as well as the hoodie, and the thin sweats and sliders he’s wearing are doing nothing to combat the chill. He’s not even wearing socks. 

Jeongin shivers, more tears spilling from his sore eyes. His thoughts are moving too quickly to catch one. He can’t slow his breathing, although whether that’s from the running or the panic, he can’t tell. 

Every time he shuts his eyes he sees powder, moving gently in the water. 

It can’t be one of them. It can’t. Jeongin’s whole body recoils from the thought. 

If it’s one of them, he doesn’t have anyone any more. It’s back to those first lonely weeks, dropping dizzily to the floor every time he was alone, except this time it’s worse. This time he knows someone’s out to hurt him, someone close to him, someone who’s doctored his food and been in his room and touched his things. Sat on his bed. One of his hyungs, who’ve taken care of him since before debut. Who hug him when he’s sad and hold his hand when he’s not feeling well. _I'll protect you_ , Chan said. 

Jeongin’s going to be sick. 

He’s in a residential area somewhere - he’s barely walked around Seoul; he lost track of time quickly after crossing the river. He stumbles over to a little patch of grass and hunches over into a bush to throw up. His throat burns, his eyes sting, his hands throb in the cold. When he stops retching, he slumps down onto the ground. He can’t stop crying. 

When Jeongin was six, a man tried to take him from the playground. He doesn't remember a lot about the incident - a big hand closing roughly over his upper arm, his older brother screaming at the top of his lungs - but he remembers his dad, bigger and louder than he'd ever seen before, and the feeling of being scooped up, held, protected. He wants that feeling back.

He’s always told himself that he both hates and loves to be coddled by the members. Before, when he was able to relax into it - if he was tired enough or sad enough or it caught him off guard - it felt so nice to be taken care of. But afterwards, or when he wasn’t able to get out of his head enough, the guilt would overtake that, and he wouldn’t be able to relax under its weight.

_We’re your hyungs_ , they’ve always told him, _it’s our job to take care of you_. 

There’s nothing but guilt, now. It’s going to crush him.

Jeongin chokes on a sob, leaning over again as his stomach rolls threateningly. How can he have got it so wrong? He works hard to be good at his job, at his role. They tell him - the hyungs tell him he’s a good maknae. They tell him they love him. What can he have done to make one of them stop?

He curls in on himself. He wishes he’d never seen what was in the glass. He’d take being sick again if it meant he could feel safe in his bed, stop wondering which of them might be trying to make him leave. He wants Hyunjin to hold him, Felix to smooth back his hair, Minho to stroke the back of his neck. He wants Chan’s fierce hugs and Jisung’s loud cheek kisses and Seungmin’s arm around his waist and Changbin pinching his cheeks. He trusts all of them. He can’t trust anyone. 

The wind picks up, and Jeongin shivers harder. His teeth are chattering hard enough to rattle his whole head. His phone buzzes again, and he digs it out of his pocket, wiping his face on his sleeve. 

Missed calls and messages fill the notification screen. It’s half past two - Jeongin’s been walking for over two hours. His hands are too cold for the phone to recognise his fingerprint and he gets his passcode wrong twice before finally unlocking it. When he finally finds the contact he wants, it rings for a long while before he gets an answer.

“Hyung?” he says hesitantly. “I’m so sorry - please can you come pick me up?”

  
  
  


It takes twenty minutes for a car to turn onto the quiet street. Jeongin hides his face with his sleeves and ducks down to cry into his knees as he waits, breathing shallowly against the cold. 

“Jeongin-ah.”

He starts at the voice, even though he heard the car approaching. Somewhere between the panic and the cold and how tired he is, Jeongin feels sluggish, confused. He almost falls as he gets himself to his feet.

Donghyun clucks his tongue worriedly as Jeongin climbs into the passenger seat. “Kid, what are you doing out here? Your members are worried sick.”

“I’m sorry, hyung,” Jeongin mumbles. It’s hard to talk around the chattering of his teeth. “I got lost.”

Donghyun is quiet for a while, although he keeps sneaking concerned glances at Jeongin as he drives. Jeongin folds himself up in the seat, trying to keep warm. The car’s heating isn’t on, but he feels too shy to ask. This is the first time he and Donghyun have ever been alone together. 

At a red light, the manager turns a little in his seat. “Jeongin-ah. I know you’re having a really hard time right now.”

His voice is gentle, almost paternal, and new tears sting at Jeongin’s sore eyes. Donghyun must see, because he clucks his tongue again and reaches over to squeeze Jeongin’s shoulder. 

“It’s going to be alright, kid,” he says. “Here, look. I brought you this.”

He reaches into the pocket of his jacket and pulls out a carton of chocolate milk, like the ones that go in little kids’ lunchboxes. Donghyun has kids, Jeongin remembers. Two little girls.

The gesture makes the lump in his throat throb painfully. He’s not supposed to take drinks from anyone, but it’s a sealed carton, and anyway those instructions came from his members, and then there was a glass filled with _something_ in Jeongin’s _room._ By his _bed._

Jeongin pushes the thought away and takes the carton, murmuring his thanks, but he still double checks the seal before he drinks it. The sweetness helps with how drowsy he’s feeling, but it’s cold, settling heavily over the chill in his chest and making it worse. He considers again asking Donghyun to put the heater on, but can’t get up the courage. Anyway, they’re almost there.

“I know things are difficult,” Donghyun reiterates as he parks in front of the dorm building. “With Iseul, and everything. I’m sure he’s just coming down hard on you because he believes in Stray Kids and he wants you guys to succeed, you know?”

He pats Jeongin’s shoulder again, a little awkwardly. “I’m glad you called me tonight, kid. I know I’m not your main manager, but I always want to help if I can. Do you want me to come up with you?”

“No, it’s ok. Thanks, hyung,” Jeongin says, very, very quietly. “For coming to get me, and - thanks.”

“It’s alright, kid. Go on inside. It’s late, and I know you’ve got a busy day tomorrow.”

Jeongin scuttles to the door, shivering again as the cold air hits his still-damp clothes. Donghyun’s car doesn’t move until the door is closing behind Jeongin, and he waves a little, although he can’t see if the manager is waving back.

  
  


Dread settles over Jeongin as he exits the lift onto their floor. The door at the end of the corridor looms at him as he raises a hand - still trembling violently - to key in the code. It opens before he can get all the numbers in. 

“Oh, shit, thank god.” Someone’s grabbing him by the shoulders, yanking him towards them hard enough to hurt. Jeongin slumps into it, too weak and cold and tired to resist, gasping a little at the impact. It’s warm, and his fingers and toes immediately start to throb.

“Jeonginnie, you’re _frozen_. Hyung, his clothes are wet.” It’s Changbin who’s holding him, patting him all over as though checking for injuries. All the others are behind him, squashed into the hallway. The light is very bright. 

“Ok, ok,” Chan says loudly. “Everyone get out of the hallway, ok? Someone make tea. Innie, come with me.”

Jeongin finds himself scooped out of Changbin’s arms and tucked into Chan’s side, led into his own bedroom. Someone’s mopped the water up, but he still recoils from the table. 

“It’s not wet any more,” Chan says, misunderstanding.

“Hyung,” Jeongin says. His voice shudders with the force of his shivering. “Did you - the water -”

“Felix cleaned it up, I think,” Chan says distractedly. “Get this off; it’s damp.”

He tugs at the hoodie, but Jeongin holds still. “N-no,” he stammers, “did you put the glass there? When we got home?”

“What? No.” Chan frowns, and he so, so clearly has no idea what Jeongin is talking about. Not Chan. It can’t be Chan. Chan wouldn’t hurt him. 

Jeongin makes an embarrassing whimpering noise and folds himself forward, pressing into his leader’s lap. Chan’s arms come around him at once. 

“Innie, honey, it’s ok,” he murmurs. “Nobody’s mad at you. Let me get you warmed up, ok, and you can tell me what’s going on.”

Jeongin can barely control his limbs, he’s so _cold_ , and so he lets Chan dress him and wrap him in a fleece blanket without protest. 

“Why did you run away, aegi?” Chan takes one of Jeongin’s hands in both of his, rubbing it to warm him up. He speaks so softly that Jeongin almost misses it. 

“The water,” he says, his voice hoarse. “I didn’t put it there.”

“Ok?” Chan says gently.

“And you didn’t?”

“No.”

Jeongin shivers miserably. His head’s starting to hurt again. “There was powder in it. In the glass. I saw it and I just - I’m so sorry - it’s so late and I’ve kept everyone up and I - but it was by my bed and I saw it and I just, I ran, I’m so - I’m so sorry.”

He has to pause, swallowing tears. “Hyung. It was by my _bed_ , I - I was - I’m _scared_.”

“Sh, hey, it’s ok.” Chan’s frowning hard, serious, and Jeongin feels anxiety buzz under his skin. He can’t tell if Chan is angry with him or not, even as his leader reaches forward to wrap him in another hug. 

“Come with me.”

Chan readjusts the blanket around Jeongin’s shoulders and leads him out into the hall. As they move through the living room they bypass most of the others, who look confused, but Chan doesn’t stop moving until they’re by the sink. Seungmin is in the kitchen, fussing at several cups of tea, and he looks up curiously. 

“Hyung?” he says. 

Chan holds up a hand to quiet him, and turns Jeongin by the shoulders until he’s looking at their (large, mostly ignored) stack of unwashed dishes. “Do you know which glass?”

Jeongin’s muscles feel like bags of sand. His head and neck ache when he looks up. He can feel his legs shaking, and he knows he isn’t going to be able to keep standing much longer.

There are two of the right kind of glass by the sink, but one of them’s clearly had something dark and sticky in it, so Jeongin points hesitantly at the other one. “I - it was one of those; I don’t - um -”

He falters, losing track of his sentence, and then jumps violently as a hand wraps around his elbow.

“Sit down, IN-ah,” Seungmin says. “You’ve gone white.”

Chan looks up sharply, the glass Jeongin pointed out in his hand. “Are you ok?”

Seungmin nudges Jeongin into a chair he’s dragged over and then hovers at his side, holding onto his shoulders. Tears well in Jeongin’s eyes again. Every time one of them touches him - Changbin hugging him at the door, Seungmin’s gentle hands on him now - he can’t even think. Someone here wants to hurt him. It must be one of them. It can’t be any of them. 

“Hey. Breathe, ok?”

Chan. His hyung is crouching on the floor, one hand on Jeongin’s knee. He’s still holding the glass. 

“Seungminnie,” he says suddenly. “Did you leave water by Jeongin’s bed when we got home?”

“What?” Seungmin sounds totally nonplussed, and Jeongin aches to believe him. “No, hyung - what?”

“Ok. No, I know you - god.” Chan reaches out to squeeze Seungmin’s wrist. He looks troubled. Jeongin _hates_ himself for putting that expression on his face. 

“Innie, this is the glass, yeah? I think you’re right - there’s something in it.”

He holds it up and Jeongin squints through blurry eyes. There’s some kind of residue in the bottom, white and filmy. It’s hard to tell what it is. It could be that someone used the glass for cooking, or forgot that their tap water is gross, or that the glass wasn’t used at all and it’s actually just dusty. It could be nothing. 

It doesn’t look like nothing, though. 

Chan turns the glass over in his hands. He looks exhausted. 

“Hey,” someone says from the doorway, and Jeongin jerks his head up. Minho’s standing there, looking kind of confused. “Are you guys ok?”

Jeongin thinks about the weird picture this must make, him in a chair in the middle of the room, Seungmin’s hands on his shoulders, Chan in front of him on his knees. He’s still shivering, too, he realises, or maybe just shaking. He’s so tired he feels faintly hysterical. 

“Yeah,” Chan says. “Just - wait for us in the living room, Minho-ah, yeah?”

Minho hesitates. Jeongin can’t quite meet his eyes, stares somewhere in the direction of his stomach instead.

“Hyung,” he says. His voice comes out cracked and hoarse, and even as he’s opening his mouth to ask the question, he finds he can’t do it. He closes his eyes instead, leaning his head against Seungmin’s stomach.

Chan sends them all through to the living room eventually. Seungmin keeps his hand on Jeongin’s elbow and steers him into a seat next to Hyunjin, who immediately wraps around him like a vine. Both he and Felix look like they’ve been crying. Jeongin stares at his lap. 

“Oh, you’re so cold,” Hyunjin murmurs. His voice sounds wrecked, too. 

Jeongin tries to curl further into himself, but Hyunjin won’t let him.

“Where have you been?” Jisung says. “What happened?”

“Leave it,” Minho almost snaps. “Wait for hyung.”

Are they angry? It’s hard to tell. Everyone’s tense and upset and tired, and it’s Jeongin’s fault. Hyunjin’s clinging to him tighter than usual, rubbing his hands up and down Jeongin’s sides to warm him up, and he’s pressed his cheek to Jeongin’s hair like he always does. Seungmin’s on his other side, sitting close so that their sides are pressed together, but that could be because there’s no space. 

Jeongin can’t bring himself to look up. He doesn’t want to see anyone’s expression. He doesn’t want to have to look at anyone’s face and wonder _Did you…?_

Chan comes in with his hands full. He’s wrapped the glass in a plastic bag, and it clunks ominously when he sets it on the table, but he ignores everyone’s questioning looks, leaning over to hand Jeongin a cup of tea.

“Drink that,” he says. “You’ll get ill.”

Jeongin takes the mug. The warmth bleeds into his hands immediately, the shock of it almost painful. He stares at the surface of the liquid, gold as honey and smelling enticingly of ginger, and feels his throat close up. He can’t do it. He can’t drink it. 

He looks up at Chan with his mouth open, although he doesn’t know what to say. 

Chan looks devastated. “Yeah. Ok. Well, hold it. It’ll keep you warm.”

Jeongin presses his lips together and returns his gaze to his hands. He’s shaking again and Hyunjin makes a concerned noise, squeezing him closer. 

“Ok, hyung is here,” Jisung says. “What _happened_?” He’s sitting across from them - Jeongin’s too scared to look at his face but he can see him bouncing his knee agitatedly up and down. 

“Did one of you leave a glass of water by Innie’s bed when we got home earlier?” Chan says. 

Nobody speaks, confused. Jeongin darts a glance up at Chan. Their leader scans everyone’s faces, sighing - a much older sound than Jeongin is used to - and explains in a terse voice. The silence that follows rings in Jeongin’s ears. Hyunjin’s fingers dig into his arm.

“That’s why you won’t drink that?” Jisung says loudly, and Jeongin is startled into looking up at him. He’s sitting in the armchair, wedged in next to Minho, and gesturing at the mug in Jeongin’s hands. “You think it’s one of us?”

Jeongin can’t speak. His mouth is dry, like maybe it’s shrivelling up, like it won’t let him speak or drink or eat ever again. 

“You don’t trust us?” says Jisung. He’s almost shouting, definitely, definitely angry now, his eyes sharp and demanding. Jeongin flinches back, dropping his gaze. 

“ _Don’t_ yell at him.”

“Don’t speak to him like that.”

Hyunjin and Chan speak at the same time. Jisung ignores Chan, leaning further forward in the chair.

“He’s not going to deny it though!” he says. “He ran away from us - we’ve been up all night and he won’t drink tea Seungmin made because he thinks we’re _poisoning_ him.”

Jeongin’s eyes blur with tears and he puts the mug on the table, twisting his fingers together hard to keep from crying. There’s hurt and fury in Jisung’s voice, and nothing Jeongin can say in response. 

Hyunjin sits up higher on the couch and scoops Jeongin into the space he leaves, holding him to his side. “Stop it. You’re making him upset.”

“I don’t care,” Jisung says, “ _I_ _’m_ upset. How could you think this of us? We’ve looked after you since before debut - this whole time you’ve been sick, it’s us who’ve -”

Hyunjin cuts him off angrily, and Jeongin pulls his knees up to his chest and ducks his head down. He’s cold all the way through, like it’s settled into his veins. He lets himself turn just a little into Hyunjin’s shoulder, and thinks again of that time someone tried to take him, the comfort of his dad holding him. This doesn’t feel like that. Hyunjin’s arms around him are protective and he’s so angry on Jeongin’s behalf, just like his dad was, but it’s different this time. This time, Jeongin doesn’t deserve it. 

“Enough,” Chan says, cutting through. “It’s late. Everyone’s exhausted, and Innie’s been out in the cold for hours -”

“By _choice_ ,” Jisung mutters. 

Jeongin presses his face into his knees as Hyunjin tenses, but Chan doesn’t stop talking.

“-and right now I think everyone just needs to go to bed.”

Jisung immediately starts arguing, and Jeongin hears Minho say _Hyung_ in a low, serious voice. The others are murmuring, too. Felix makes a wet noise, as though he’s crying again. 

Jeongin hauls himself up from the couch. He sways dizzily at the movement, but brushes off Seungmin and Hyunjin’s supportive hands, steadying himself on the doorframe instead as he escapes to the bathroom. 

He washes his face and spends a long time drinking straight from the tap. The water is cold, but a little earthy and metallic. It tastes like money, like blood. His stomach turns, and he folds over to retch into the sink.

Someone knocks quietly on the door. “Innie? Are you ok?”

Jeongin coughs in lieu of a response, turning the tap back on. Bile burns in his throat and tears burn in his eyes and he grips hard onto the sink to stay upright. He can’t do this alone. He’s going to have to give up. He’s going to slide down onto the floor and never get up again.

Seungmin is hovering in the hallway when he leaves. Jeongin palms the wall to stop himself falling and ducks into his room, startling a little when he finds Chan and Jisung already in there. Chan’s on the end of Jeongin’s bed, and he’s turned the covers back like he’s waiting to tuck him in. Jeongin’s heart hurts. He bites at his lip and stumbles over.

Chan strokes his hand gently down Jeongin’s spine as he crawls into bed, but doesn’t speak. He keeps touching him, though, rubbing at his still-cold hands, smoothing down his hair. He looks sad. 

“I love you, Jeongin-ah, ok?” 

Jeongin feels his mouth pull down at the corners, his chest convulsing as he holds in a sob. He nods.

“Me too,” Seungmin says from the door. Jeongin lolls his head to one side to look at him, but before he can answer, Jisung makes a tight scoffing noise from the other side of the room. Jeongin flinches. When he looks up, Jisung is winding his phone charger around his hand. His pillow is shoved under one arm.

“Where are you going?” Jeongin says hesitantly. 

Jisung doesn’t even look at him. “Felix’s room.” 

He brushes past Seungmin and Chan on his way out of the room. Jeongin swallows. He’s not going to cry with the others right here. He’s hurt them enough.

“Innie,” Seungmin starts, “do you want -”

“No,” Jeongin says at once. “No, hyung; I’m fine. Go to bed.”

“He’s just -”

“I know. I’m fine.”

He’s lying.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> no plot only angst


	6. vi

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m so worried about you,” Minho says. “I’ve been worried about you for a long time, actually.”
> 
> “I’m ok, hyung.”
> 
> “No, you’re not.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We're back!
> 
> Slight TW in this chapter for some slight discussion of weight loss and refusal to eat - nothing too specific or extensive, but maybe proceed with caution if this is something that bothers you.

“We’ll have to pin this, Jeongin-ah. How did you lose so much weight, hm?”

“I’m sorry, noona,” Jeongin says, “I, um, I’ve been ill, so.”

The stylist clucks at him and pulls the belt tighter. “Stay still.”

Jeongin obeys, and watches himself in the mirror as she adjusts all the clothes that no longer fit him. His hands shake as he holds them out so she can pin the arms of his sweater, but she doesn’t comment. 

This is the first photoshoot they’ve had in a while. Jeongin probably should have thought to tell someone how much smaller he is now, but lately all his thoughts arrive at him hours or days late, floating up sodden and unrecognisable through the thick soup of anxiety in his head. There’s an interview later, as well, and he doesn’t know how he’s going to cope.

It’s been several days of drifting awkwardly around at practice and at the dorm. Barely anyone says anything to Jeongin - not on purpose, except Jisung; it’s just that no one knows what to say. They’re hardly speaking to each other, either. It reminds him of the beginning of all this, weeks ago now, when no one knew and he was desperately trying to keep it from them. When he was alone.

Everyone’s especially quiet today, with more eyes on them, except for occasional bursts of manic energy when they think people are noticing something’s wrong. The air is charged, like the moments before a lightning strike.

Jeongin sinks gratefully into the couch when the stylist is done pinning him. She urges him not to move around too much. That won’t be a problem - he’s dizzy every time he stands for too long. It’s been a while since he passed out or threw up, but the nausea and lightheadedness never leave him, and occasionally bring him to his knees, his vision edged with grey. He drops his head onto the back of the couch, sighing.

Someone’s eyes are on him. Jeongin looks up, not sure how long he’s been half asleep, and finds Hyunjin sitting at his side, his eyes worried.

“They’re calling us for the group shots in a minute, Innie,” he says gently. “Are you ok?”

Jeongin bites the side of his lip. _No_ , he wants to say, _everything’s falling apart; everyone’s unhappy and it’s all my fault and I don’t know what to do._

“Fine, hyung,” he mumbles instead, and stretches his mouth into something like a smile. 

Hyunjin frowns, watching the others, who’ve started filing out of the dressing room. “Innie -”

“Guys, we have to go,” Chan calls. 

Jisung makes an impatient noise behind him, and Jeongin flinches. 

Hyunjin glances between them, looking upset, and Jeongin tries to smile for him again. He uses the arm of the couch to pull himself upright. 

The morning passes painfully slowly. One of the art directors compliments Jeongin on his _delicate angles_ and, a beat later, asks Chan to relax his face and stop looking so annoyed. Jeongin’s dizzy under the lights, nearly passes out more than once. The stylists spend fifteen minutes pinning every outfit tighter around him. He breathes deeply, and wishes for it to be over.

There’s an awkward moment at lunchtime when everyone looks up at him automatically, waiting for him to be the first to eat, before they all realise he isn’t going to - not here - and Seungmin reaches out to take a sushi roll instead. Jeongin has food on his plate, for appearances, and he pokes at it with chopsticks for a while, not looking up as the others talk around him. 

“Did you bring something?” Felix murmurs next to him, when everyone else has nearly finished. 

Jeongin shakes his head, shrugs. He’s mostly been living off snacks and fruit from the vending machines at the company building, and he remembered too late that he wasn’t going to be there today. 

Felix makes a small, disapproving noise. “You haven’t eaten all day.”

“I’ll be fine, hyung.”

Felix starts to say something else, but he’s interrupted by a little flurry of movement in the managerial staff near the door, and then Iseul enters. 

Everyone stands to bow - Jeongin blinks away lightheadedness at the movement - and Chan steps away from the table.

“We weren’t expecting to see you today, hyung-nim,” he says politely. “I thought Sodam-noona was managing the shoot.”

“Just dropping in, Chan-ah,” Iseul says. He looks tired, Jeongin thinks, not quite as stern as he has been lately. 

“I need to speak with you and Jeongin.”

Just like every time, the use of Jeongin’s formal name feels like a little slap. He stumbles off the bench, and the two of them follow the manager out of the room.

“This is your most public appearance since you’ve been on probation,” Iseul says. “I wanted to see how things are going.”

Jeongin nods. He thinks Iseul is expecting him to say something, but he doesn’t know what. 

“Promotions are picking up,” Iseul continues. “You have a live performance later this week, correct? If you can’t be up to standard…”

“We are, hyung-nim,” Chan says at once. “Jeonginnie is working hard.”

“Yes, hyung-nim,” Jeongin says, hardly above a whisper. 

“I don’t think I agree,” Iseul says mildly. “We’ve been taking measures to monitor how things are going, and while nothing has explicitly broken the probationary agreement, the situation is clearly still serious.”

Chan frowns. “What measures, hyung-nim?” 

“That’s not important,” Iseul says archly. He looks down at Jeongin, a pinched expression on his face. He’s a big man, tall and broad, and although he’s usually in suits for work, Jeongin knows he favours loose, cosy jumpers in his off hours. They make him look soft. Jeongin can’t reconcile that image with the man in front of him, who looks like he’s been carved from stone. Iseul used to like him so much, he thinks with a little pang. 

“It has to improve, Jeongin. The group cannot afford any more damage to its image, and JYPE can’t be seen to tolerate drug use. How many times do we have to have this conversation?”

Jeongin feels so, so sick. Chan sets a supportive hand on his back, but it’s barely enough. 

“I’ll work harder, hyung-nim,” he says, almost in a whisper. 

Iseul keeps talking but Jeongin lets himself lean into Chan’s hand and zone out. He can feel himself trembling, hopes it’s not visible. 

He’s _trying_ . He’s trying so hard, and it’s still not good enough, and he doesn’t know what else he can possibly do. He can’t even ask the others, because he’s hurt them so badly, and they probably don’t deserve it, but he can’t stop his mind screaming _What if what if what if_ , he can’t stop thinking about the glittering glass on the table, inches from his bed.

Iseul nods at them and leaves, and Jeongin bows automatically. His chest feels tight. 

“Innie,” Chan says softly, “it’s ok. Breathe.”

“I, um,” Jeongin says, and then shrugs off Chan’s hand and slips out of the room.

He walks as fast as he can to the nearest bathroom - thankfully, blissfully empty - and drops to his knees in the corner stall, retching. He hardly even manages to bring anything up, and the movement hurts his chest and throat, every muscle weak and straining. His whole body is taut with stress and anxiety. 

His heavy breaths echo in the small space. Jeongin tips his head back against the wall so that the tears run down from the corners of his eyes, hopefully not disturbing too much of his makeup. He tries to keep his throat relaxed so he won’t sob. He can’t get that upset here. He can’t. He can’t.

Jeongin was wrong - this isn’t like before any of the members knew. It’s worse. He’s never felt so small and sad and alone in his life. 

  
  


It’s a long time before he moves. No one’s come looking, and he knows their call time isn’t for a little while yet, so Jeongin sits still, fighting against the tightness in his throat and the churning of his stomach, until he can force himself to be calm. 

When he exits the stall and faces the mirror, he almost flinches. Most of his makeup is intact, which is good, but under it his face looks grey, worn. He looks away, disgusted, and leans over carefully to rinse his mouth.

On the way out, Jeongin pauses and fishes in his pocket for the box of mints he’s started carrying around - they serve a dual purpose, for moments like this one, and for little hits of sugar when he can’t find food that he trusts. He’s leaning on the wall, sucking a mint and blinking away leftover tears, when he hears a low voice. 

“- not fair to the rest of us. After everything we’ve done for him, hyung -”

Jisung, spitting with rage. Jeongin shrinks further back. 

“Stop it,” someone says firmly. Minho. “Han-ah, he’s sick and scared out of his mind.”

“That doesn’t -”

“It does matter,” Minho says. “It’s not his fault. He’s frightened, and even if he turned around tomorrow and said he, I don’t know, he hates all of us and wishes we caught fire, we’d still have to look after him. It’s our job.”

Jisung mutters something Jeongin doesn’t catch. 

Minho scoffs. “You love him; I know you do. I get how you’re feeling, I do, but you just have to put that aside and take care of him. You’re the hyung here. Act like one.”

Jeongin doesn’t hear any more. He waits a little, assuming they’ve left, but when he leaves the bathroom Minho is still there, leaning his head back against the wall. They’ve done his makeup soft and glowy, rich blue shadow around his eyes, and even though he’s clearly exhausted, he looks like the magazine editorial they’ll eventually end up in. He startles slightly when he sees Jeongin. 

“Oh,” he says, “Innie, did you hear..?”

Jeongin swallows around the mint in his mouth, nodding shortly. Minho’s scrutinising his face, frowning a little, and Jeongin remembers his bloodshot eyes, the smeared makeup around his mouth. He ducks his head and tries to slip past, but he’s moved too quickly and stumbles unsteadily into his hyung’s chest. 

“Hey.” Minho catches him by the elbows. “You ok?”

“Yeah,” Jeongin mumbles, “sorry, hyung. Just dizzy.”

Minho doesn’t let go of him. He looks suddenly very sad. “Of course you’re dizzy,” he says crossly. “You’ve barely eaten in days.”

He marches Jeongin over to some chairs and pushes him down. His grip slides down until they’re almost holding hands. Jeongin keeps his eyes on his lap, willing himself to stop shaking. 

“I’m so worried about you,” Minho says. “I’ve been worried about you for a long time, actually.”

“I’m ok, hyung.”

“No, you’re not.”

Minho sounds like he might be about to cry, and Jeongin’s own voice cracks when he answers. “Please don’t worry about me.”

His hyung whacks him on the shoulder. “Yah, you don’t get a choice. You’re my dongsaeng. What would hyung do if something happened to you? And the kids would miss their favourite uncle.”

“Stop calling the cats your kids, hyung.”

“Don’t be insolent.” 

He puts a hand on the back of Jeongin’s neck and drags him in. Jeongin drops his forehead to the older boy’s shoulder and breathes shakily, unsure what to do. He wants to shrug Minho off and run away. He wants to crawl into his lap and cry. He doesn’t deserve this gentleness.

“Don’t listen to Jisungie, ok? He’s worried about you too, and it’s making him angry, but he doesn’t mean it. He loves you so much.”

Minho’s hand pets softly through his hair and Jeongin has to pull back before he bursts into tears. He sucks hard on the mint for a second, willing the sugar to kick in, and wobbles to his feet. 

“Please don’t worry about me,” he says again. He leaves before Minho can reply. 

  
  


Everyone else is gathered in the main dressing room. There’s quite a lot of staff around, their own and the publication’s, and it’s too many people - Jeongin feels instantly nervous, but he can’t disappear again so quickly. He edges along the wall like a fox, trying to find somewhere inconspicuous to sit down until the dizziness goes away. 

Chan and Seungmin are on one of the couches, Felix and Hyunjin curled up together on the other. Jisung is here, too. He doesn’t look up and Jeongin averts his eyes quickly. This isn’t the place to get into another argument. What would he even say? 

Sudden movement draws his attention away from Jisung, and when he looks up, Changbin’s crossing the room towards him. He’s walking quickly, like he’s in a hurry to get somewhere. Jeongin jumps as his hyung reaches out and grabs a fistful of his shirt, drags him in until he can put an arm around him. Changbin is squaring his shoulders, his lower jaw set the way it gets when he's angry. Jeongin doesn't understand.

“Hyung, what..?”

Changbin doesn’t say anything, his hand curved possessively over Jeongin’s bicep. Jeongin follows his gaze to the other side of the room. One of the assistants from the management team is looking at them - no, not at them. At Jeongin. His expression is neutral but he’s staring hard, unmoving even as Changbin puts himself between them.

Jeongin’s heart thumps almost painfully in his chest. He leans in, just a little, scolding himself for nearly crying just because his hyung’s put an arm around him. It wasn’t even just because he wanted to. It was because someone’s looking at Jeongin, and it might be the person who’s trying to kill him.

“Innie.”

Flinching, Jeongin glances up, and realises his breath is hitching. He fights to calm down. Changbin sighs, nudging him over to a corner.

“It’s fine,” he says, low. “I just didn’t like the way he was looking at you. It’s ok.”

Jeongin can’t cry again. He’ll ruin more of his makeup and delay the shoot and the interview and everyone will be even angrier with him. 

“Hyung, I - I -”

Changbin squeezes his shoulder, nodding. Jeongin stares at the floor.

“Sit down,” Changbin says. “You look ill.”

_I always look ill_ , Jeongin wants to say. He doesn’t remember the last time he looked in a mirror and didn’t feel ashamed.

Changbin pushes him in the direction of the couches and Jeongin shrinks into the corner of one, pulling his legs up. Everyone’s quiet again, tired, and Jeongin dares to lean a little closer to Felix and Hyunjin, although he’s not brave enough to ask for a hug. He doesn’t deserve it, anyway. 

  
  


He half-dozes for a little while. The others are moving around, having their outfits changed and being called for individual and smaller group shots, but nobody bothers Jeongin. The conversation around him is a soft buzz, until he hears Iseul’s name.

A few of the managerial assistants are gathered nearby, laughing. It’s one of the women talking - Eunhye, who’s been with them for two years now. She always shows Jeongin pictures of her dogs.

“He’s been so weird lately,” she says conspiratorially. 

One of the other assistants hums in agreement. “Right? Always creeping off into corners with Donghyun. Since when was he the favourite? I thought they didn’t get on.”

“Who has time for all this extra work?” Eunhye says. “Redoing schedules, searching the dorms; it’s ridiculous.”

Jeongin frowns. What?

“What did you say, noona?” Chan says at once. He’s listening too, then. “Did Iseul - was our dorm searched?”

Jeongin peers over his own shoulder. The assistants look kind of uncomfortable. Eunhye shifts in her seat, looking apologetic.

“Yeah, Chan-ah,” she says, lowering her voice. “Look, I’m sorry. I know it’s a violation of your privacy and we did try and ask why, sort of, but Iseul-ssi’s been in such a _mood_ lately, and he’s the boss…”

Chan meets Jeongin’s eyes. He looks troubled. “No, noona, I get it. We just - we didn’t know, is all. Was it - were you looking for something in particular?”

Eunhye shrugs a shoulder, glancing around at her colleagues. “He didn’t say. He was pretty intense about it though.”

Any number of people in their dorm, in Jeongin’s space, in his room. He fists his hands into his trousers to try and stop them shaking. At his side, Felix lays a gentle hand on his elbow. 

“When, um,” Chan says, “if you don’t mind me asking, noona - when did you search? Was it just you?”

“Um, Monday, I think,” Eunhye says. One of the other assistants nods. “We didn’t move anything, Chan-ah, I promise. We were only there an hour or so. Iseul was there, and us two -” she gestures “- and two of the interns.”

She points over at the other table, and Jeongin follows her gaze. The intern from before is still looking at him. His eyes are blank.

Chan immediately tries to gather everyone in to pass on what they’ve just heard, but they’re barely halfway out of their seats before they’re called back into makeup before the interview. It’s not live, thank goodness; it’ll be a print interview to go along with the editorial, but segments are being filmed for the magazine’s website. 

The makeup artist chides Jeongin gently for smudging all his makeup, but she’s kind about it and fixes it up, adding a little more gold around the edges. 

“Nice and sparkly,” she says cheerfully. 

Jeongin gives her his best smile, although he can see in the mirror that it barely counts. 

  
  


It’s the worst interview Jeongin thinks he’s ever done, even since the very beginning, when he could barely raise his voice above a whisper. He can’t keep track of the conversation at all, and so he says almost nothing. The others are swinging wildly between being loud and unruly to compensate and being similarly quiet, letting Chan do most of the talking, but they don’t seem to be able to stick to one trick. Seungmin nudges Jeongin every time he’s expected to speak, and he laughs when they laugh, but he still catches the shadowed look on Iseul’s face from the corner of the room when it’s over. It makes his blood turn cold. 

Nobody speaks much while they gather their things and pile into the van. Changbin starts to ask what Chan was trying to tell them, but the leader quiets him with a meaningful glance at the assistant in the front seat - not Eunhye, but the man she’d pointed out as one of the searchers - and they fall silent again. Jeongin wishes he could sleep.

They’ve been in the house for ten seconds when Changbin asks again. Chan ushers them all through to the living room so he can explain. 

“The interns are the ones we don’t really know,” he says tiredly, sinking onto the couch. “I don’t think Eunhye would have told us anything otherwise, and that guy just seems clueless.”

“One of the interns was staring at Innie all day,” Changbin says. He’s got that angry, guarded expression back on his face.

“Can we change the passcodes?” Minho says. 

Chan nods. “Yeah, I’ll do it tonight. But we still have to inform management, so I don’t know if that’s a permanent solution.”

“Padlocks?” Minho says, only half joking. “Bolts? I will go and find a hardware shop right now; I don’t even care.”

Seungmin snorts at him. “A bit drastic?”

Minho shrugs a shoulder. “As if any of us wouldn’t literally build a moat around this building if it meant Innie could feel safe.”

Nobody refutes it. Jeongin hugs his knees to his chest and drops his head down against a burst of guilt. He doesn’t deserve this. A tentative hand comes to rest on his ankle, rubbing gently - Felix, sitting on the floor by Chan’s knees.

“You can eat with us, now,” he says hopefully. “Not the stuff that’s here now, I guess, but when we can get more.”

Jeongin chews his lip. _Maybe_ , he thinks, but then, traitorously, _What if what if what if._

Felix looks sad again. “I just meant - now that we know someone else has been here - not that that’s good, obviously, but maybe..?”

Jeongin stares at his knees and thinks, _I am the worst person I’ve ever met._

“It’s still not enough,” Jisung says suddenly from the other couch. His voice is quiet but so, so angry. “You _know_ other people were here, and you still think -”

“Han-ah,” Minho says warningly. 

“ _No_ , hyung,” Jisung snaps. “I can’t - I’ve had _enough_. I don’t even want to look at him.”

He shoves himself up from the couch and disappears into Felix and Changbin’s room. 

  
  
  


Jeongin presses his hands over his face, sobbing. He can’t calm down. His breaths shiver in and out of him, ragged and uneven, and tears stream down his face. It isn’t just crying and it isn’t just a panic attack; it’s both or something in between, and Jeongin feels sick with it. 

It’s been hours since they left the living room, the rest of the dorm long since gone quiet, once Jeongin had managed to convince Chan to leave him alone. He lies flat on his back but he feels like someone is behind him, reaching for him. People got in here once. It only takes a few passcodes. They can do it again. There’s nothing he can do, he thinks hysterically, there’s nothing nothing nothing he can do to stop them getting to him. He’s not safe. He’s not safe.

Maybe this is bad enough - maybe right now he feels bad enough to go to someone. Jisung is just across the room, maybe Jeongin can - but he isn’t. Jeongin gasps as the thought catches, like a snagging thorn. Of course Jisung isn’t in the room; he hasn't been for days; he’s been chased out of his own bed and Jeongin is all alone because he doesn’t trust them, because he’s the worst, lowest, most pathetic creature in the world. 

Jeongin sobs wretchedly. His head throbs and his heart flutters in his chest and he really, really can’t take this any more. The shivering gets worse as he stumbles out of bed and creeps across the room, and by the time he gets to the door he’s almost vibrating. He isn’t sure how much of it is from the cold. 

It’s dark in the hall, and he holds his breath to keep from making noise as he pads across the floor. The cool air stings his wet cheeks. It feels like every movement he makes is thunderous, but there’s no sign of anyone still awake as he slips into his hyungs’ room. 

Jeongin’s eyes have adjusted to the dark a little but there’s nothing he can do about the tears, which get worse and worse the closer he gets to his goal. He moves slowly as he finds the edge of the bed with his hands, pats carefully over the covers.

Hyunjin’s facing away from him, towards the wall. Jeongin sinks to his knees beside the bed before he can second-guess himself, holding in a sob and burrowing his face in his hyung’s back. It’s warm, and Hyunjin sighs, half-turning over.

“Hm?”

Jeongin cries harder and doesn’t say anything. 

“Who’s’it?”

Hyunjin turns all the way around and reaches out, blindly patting at Jeogin’s face and hair. “Innie? Are you ok?” he whispers.

Jeongin shakes his head, and he does sob this time, a quiet, breathy little noise. Hyunjin wriggles his arm out from under the covers to hug him.

“Come here. Are you sick?”

For once, Jeongin can say no. He doesn’t feel _well_ , exactly, but that’s hardly unusual any more, and it’s not why he’s here. 

“You’re shaking.” Hyunjin sounds stricken. He tries to tug Jeongin up onto the bed. “Come here, ‘s’ok. It’s warm here. You’re fine.”

Jeongin can’t stop crying, and he knows he’s being too loud. He turns his face into the soft part of Hyunjin’s arm, trying to swallow it down.

“Hyunjin-ah?”

Seungmin, calling down in a whisper from the bunk above. 

“Yeah,” Hyunjin says. “Not me. Innie.”

“He ok?”

Hyunjin hums instead of answering. He swings his legs out of the bed without taking his hands off Jeongin, and lifts him up to his feet. Jeongin follows, stumbling weakly against the older boy’s chest under the weight of the dizziness and the crying. Hyunjin puts an arm around his waist and turns them towards the door.

“Are you ok?” Seungmin hisses.

“Innie’s hurting,” Hyunjin says, very softly. “He needs a cuddle. He’ll be ok.”

He tucks his arm tighter around Jeongin and leads him out of the room. Jeongin chokes on his breath, shivering, the tears cold as they roll down his neck. Hyunjin takes him to the kitchen and guides him gently onto the bench at the table. He lets go of him to put the kettle on, and Jeongin can’t hold back a pathetic, frightened whimper. 

“It’s ok, it’s ok,” Hyunjin chants. “Hyung is here, aegi. You’re ok.”

He stands by the bench and cradles Jeongin’s head to his stomach. Jeongin clings.

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, “I didn’t mean to - make everyone angry - I’m sorry -”

He can hardly get the words out. He can hardly breathe. His chest hurts. 

“Sh, sh,” Hyunjin croons. “You haven’t done anything wrong, aegi, ok? Watch now.”

Jeongin clenches his hands around the wood of the bench to stop himself doing anything stupid like reaching out for Hyunjin as the older boy moves away. He watches through blurry eyes. Hyunjin opens a box of ginger tea and shows him the sealed teabag before adding it to a cup. 

“I’ll drink it too, ok?” Hyunjin’s saying. “We’ll share. You don’t have to worry.”

Jeongin swallows down a rush of emotion. “You don’t - have to -”

“I didn’t say I had to, I said I’m going to,” Hyunjin says quietly. “I’m putting honey in it as well. Lixie said you didn’t eat all day.”

He brings the tea over to the table and swings one leg over the bench, sitting behind Jeongin and making him lean against his chest. He’s warm and steady and Jeongin sinks into it, trying to calm down. Hyunjin’s hand comes up to rub soothingly at his sternum. 

“Breathe, aegi,” he says softly. “Hyung has you. Everything’s going to be ok.”

Jeongin turns his face into Hyunjin’s neck. “I’m so - scared,” he says, his voice jerky with sobs. “It’s never - going to stop.”

“It will,” Hyunjin soothes, rocking him. “I promise, ok? Just slow down for hyung. I’m worried you’ll make yourself sick.”

He breathes slowly and exaggeratedly for Jeongin to follow, and when finally some of the panic recedes, kisses his temple sweetly. “That’s better. You’re ok.”

Jeongin shudders and shudders in his arms. Hyunjin picks up the cup of tea and leans to one side so that Jeongin can see him drink from it, and then presses it into his hands. 

“Please Innie,” he says. “It’ll help you. I would never, ever hurt you.”

Jeongin squeezes his eyes shut, because he knows that. He knows. More tears spill down his cheeks, and he takes the mug in his hands. The warmth of it is almost painful. He brings it close to his mouth, feels the steam soothe his sore eyes, his blocked nose, and drinks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i. Hyunjin is the best boy.
> 
> ii. Based on my (tenuous) outline, it's looking like there will be two or three more chapters, and then maybe an epilogue from someone else's point of view? Let me know if you think that would be good and if there's any POV in particular you'd like to see :)


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